Unwoven eternity

by Edwvy

Summary:

The darkness is made up of a large palm resting on her eyelids, her silence covered by a laugh that resonates in the hollow of her ear, like the sea in the hollow of a shell. His laugh is the sound of history repeating itself, twenty-two years later.

Except then, Nami didn't know that his smile was a trap. She sure does now. She ran from him once, she can do it again. Probably. No closed door ever stopped the cat thief. Threads however ? That’s a bit of a different story, but you would have to ask Rosinante.

Notes:

I'm a bit nervous to post this, I wrote a first draft a few years ago, that I posted on FF.net in french and then deleted because I wasn't convinced by it.

I started to write Unwoven Eternity on a whim, picking at random a character to pair with Nami. It's been fun to write, but challenging. The writing is not yet finished, but the detailed planning is, it might take some time, but i'll finish this one ! I hope my metaphorical and contemplative bullshit won't scare too many readers away. If you are still here anyway, have fun, and good reading !

Chapter 1: Spider's web

13 FEB 1522

     No treasure is worth all the eyes targeting her. The crowd swarms in the Baratie, she drowns in a sea of scrutiny. Every bite have her nails drumming more and more nervously on the table. Too much people. Too many unpredictable variable. So, Nami clings to her glass of rum and to Luffy’s confident smile like a lifeline. Until he drags her into the current, and she realizes : this straw hat idiot will follow the swell right into the eye of the storm if given the chance. Straw hat is punching through life itself, with a big stupid grin, without caring about anyone who might be looking. Nami lives in the instant between two blink of an eye, the hour of the thief. If she stays, he will be her doom. So she leaves.

 

     “ Everything’s ok, Nami ? ”

 

     She startles, fingers gripping the papers that she holds, her nails leaving a mark, and she crafts the best candid expression that she can, before facing Yosaku.

 

     “ You seem obsessed with those wanted posters.

     - I was only inquiring about it. It’s always good to be prepared.”

 

     There’s a revolting carelessness to the way he handles the wanted posters, as one would hold paperwork. Do they consider, sometimes, that there is something besides the reward money ? That those wanted posters carry the weight of the lives that the monsters threaten ? She swallows her contempt, almost chokes on it. They are choosing safety, choosing cowardice. It was chosen for her. When they see Arlong, they only see a risk that is not worth taking. Even his twenty millions are not worth their lives, sacrificed to play the heroes. So they pursue easier prey, digestible monsters. Money has no smell for them ; she’s suffocating on Belmer’s cold tobacco. Yosaku’s voice is a farway echo, his words unreal. He is warning the little red hood of the dangers of the big bad wolf, without knowing that she already lies in his belly. It is only natural, they are young, they don’t know yet the end of the story ; she already lived through it. 

 

     There is no way out, the beast might change its face ; wolf, shark or spider, she will end up between their fangs anyway. So Nami takes a big inspiration and carries a role she performed so many times, it sticks to her skin. Her fingers play with the rim of her shirt, exposing her collarbone, exposing her. They would be wrong to assume that she is getting rid of her armor ; her own skin made of chain mail, safe from attacks to her dignity. She walks in high heels on the fine frontier between ingenuity and seductress, and it is Johnny and Yosaku who fall from it. Or maybe she might have pushed them. They go overboard, struggle with the sea, and for a moment, she wonders if the waves are the fangs of the wolf that came to devour them. And then, she looks at the Baratie. A few fathoms will get them out of the beast's mouth. She won't become the monster in someone else's story. Or maybe she will anyway. She sighs. Then, with a smile made of glass, she sets sail. Like she always does.

 

     She’ll forget their faces. She always forgets their faces. Quite a nasty habit, already came back to bite her in the ass once. She can’t stop anyway. She only knows the sea. Every wave; a wrinkle that she caresses with her eyes until she can draw from memory. She watches, night and day, until the salt burns her cornea, and a snake of fire inhabits her throat. Not a ship on the horizon. Nothing in three days. But she is sure of it. A cluster of spiders teems at her feet, their nasty eyes on her. Each stop she makes up to Cocoyashi leaves her footprint on the sand, and the tide is not strong enough to hide her trail. Only three islands left. And not enough time to annihilate all the spiders. But Nami still knows how to crush them under her heels, as long as she finds them. So she searches the faces of sellers and passers-by for the flash of fangs ready to tear apart everything she has built or the shadow of a careless arachnid, but none of the smiles she receives are razor-sharp. 

 

     After a whole day on this island; not a spider under her heel, but she definitely can't afford to go straight back to Cocoyashi anymore. So Nami carries a bag larger than herself on her back, traces her route and, who knows, perhaps her end. She lets herself be guided by the strongest, fastest currents, with no other objective than to sail at the speed of the wind. The Vogue Merry is surprisingly easy to handle, bending to her will without question, and she finds herself regretting having taken it away from the straw hats. 

 

     “ With this ship, maybe they could have had a chance. They could have… ”

 

     She minces her words, disavows what could have been, and tightens her grip on the bar. This thought is a bad weed, and she rips it out with her bare hands. If it hadn't been for her, Merry would eventually have found her place in the depths of the ocean, along with the rest of the crew. She sighs, her heels echoing dryly against the wood of the deck, her nose fixed on a cloudy sky. A storm. An opportunity to get rid of vermin. She doesn’t know yet that, tonight, the raging waves will lick at the ship's hull, leading her all the way to her doom. To Loguetown.

 

 

     Loguetown is a town of spiders. No one hides here, rumors swarm, and every step feels like getting even more stuck in his web. Concealing the Merry in one of the city's old ports has done nothing to calm the beasts crawling under her skin, making her stomach churn. She hasn't slept a wink since her arrival, fearing at every turn to find spiders in her hold. Two days to go before she can leave this island of a thousand eyes. So, to fight her anxiety, she slams her heels hard against the pavement, hides in plain sight, her smile more anonymous than a hood pulled down on her face. Arms laden with fruit, fish and feigned confidence, she crosses the town, preparing her provisions in a large bag, weighed down with more theft than shopping. In the busy streets of the market, not even the shadow of a swarm. This calm will not last. They will eventually find her. If she can’t avoid it, she can guide the swarm of spiders in the wrong direction. She won’t lead them to Cocoyashi. She has to escape the spider, fall between the threads to make sure that he’ll find his web empty, and still, will keep searching for her there. Tonight, they will be oh so sure that she’s about to leave Loguetown for Grandline. Twenty-two years ago, he found her here. Today, it’s here she’ll make sure he will never get his hands on her again. But for that …

 

     She definitely needs some spiders. 

 

     Of course, today, she doesn’t see any of the thousand eyes that have been following her for weeks. She blames the chatter of passers-by ; she drowns in a carefree crowd. So there is no other choice than to make herself visible. A carcass in an open field, ready to be devoured by spiders. Anxiety twists her guts, and she grimaces as she tramples the central square : where dreams come to life when a head falls. She recognizes a few faces that can't say the same about her. A few soldiers dreaming of making a name for themselves at the expense of miserable lives. Some fried fish, too, that the navy will catch before they even think of leaving their pond. A few civilians. And restless eyes. Hesitant, muffled footsteps. Whispers. Nami bites back a smile, lets murmurs grow, pretends to observe the scaffold, to retrace a threadbare history, with yellowed and dog-eared pages, like so many others. But, for her, history still has black hair, eyes full of mirth, and a furious desire to live. She still remembers the exhortations of the crowd, the laughter, the humiliation. And the hand around her wrist, the one on her eyes. His last moments that were ripped from her. She grits her teeth, swallowing her rage to the point of nausea. Another day, she would have liked to leave a few flowers at the foot of the scaffold. Maybe some hibiscus.

 

     But the trap has closed, she no longer has time for that. She’s got one. She feels the fixed gaze of one of these insects, so she moves away from the scaffold, running from alley to alley. She quickens her pace, their own harmonize with it. They play a strange melody, with a crescendo rhythm, until it reaches its climax in an alley where even their breath resonates. She turns around on her heels abruptly; the glint of her blade against a pale throat. A coat of pink feathers. Tinted glasses. A smile made of daggers. She turns pale. A thread wraps around her wrist, an arm around her waist. She is caught in the spider's web. Shit.

 

     " Didn’t think I would find you again in Loguetown, Nami. How nostalgic. "

 

    A laugh. A low growl, her name in his mouth like gravel caught in silk. His fingers against her ribs, his nose against hers, their breath mingled. The darkness is made up of a large palm resting on her eyelids, her silence covered by a laugh that laugh that resonates in the hollow of her ear, like the sea in the hollow of a shell. He weaves her docility with white thread, captures each of her movements, until none belongs to her anymore. She lets her head fall against his shoulder, he strokes her hair, in a parody of tenderness and his laugh resonates, making the chest on which she rests shake. It is the anthem of her surrender. No. She won’t let him make her one of those pretty cats, dragged on a leash, collar set in diamonds, and an engraved medal with her name on it. No. Not again. She is not his. Never was. 

 

     She bares her fangs ; bites before he does. She sinks her teeth into his neck, tearing the flesh. When the threads loosen, she cuts them and jumps away from him. Spits out the skin caught between her canines, wipes the blood from her lips. And then she runs. Towards a crowd that he can no longer stupidly butcher. She prays that his title as Shichibukai is more valuable than his megalomaniac plans and her warmth in his bed. She slaloms through the alleys, skidding on the pavement in a race against time towards the port. The Merry was perfect. Quick. Flexible. Reliable. But too recognizable. She needs something forgettable, she needs-. Shit. 

 

   A thread around her ankle, her knees scraped, bloody, her face against the asphalt, broken nails scraping at her last hope for a life away from him, she drowns in the growing shadow of his laugh.

Chapter 2: The monkey's idiotic fight for the ungrateful

Notes:

Thank you so much to the one who left kudos, and to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter of my weird crack ship fic. Hope you'll like this one !

 

15 FEB 1522

     “ Miss, you need to eat. ” 

 

     Her silence digs into her stomach, every word is a rock sitting in her belly, and sometimes, she wonders if she could swallow her own tongue, not give any word, not accept a crumb. She glances at the woman. She could rip hers out instead ; drown the revoltingly subservient intonations of her voice in a bloody gargle. A rustle of fabric, her apron reeks of cigarettes. Like Belmer’s, once. She guesses the young woman has knelt beside her, rough hand inspecting her wrists. The revolt has torn her skin, but she would gladly sacrifice more for a life away from him.

 

     “ Miss ? ” 

 

     She tilts her head in her direction, scanning the darkness, eyes squinting. A glint of silver, a spoon to her lips, which she keeps closed. Hunger won’t kill her. But she can always hope he’ll eventually fish out some good sense to let her go, into the depths of her sunken eyes. 

 

     “ Miss, please. ” She lost interest in her trembling hands, in the plea that made the timbre of her voice vibrate. “ Let me help you. ”

 

      Weakness, somewhere in her bright eyes. Nami has spent the last ten years refining the profile of the ideal victim : the arrogant who never expects to be deceived, or the well-meaning naive. She recognizes this shine. A desire to be useful, even if it means losing everything. So, with a sigh, she lets out a torn voice, a carefully crafted mix of despair and determination.

 

     “ I wanna be free. ” A silence. A moment’s hesitation. Nami knows how to recognize an enemy on the ground, that a single breeze could finish off, so she delivers the final blow in a breath. “ I need you. You are the only one who can help me. ”

 

      Her chains fall to the ground with a metallic clang, and Nami celebrates the stupidity of those whose hearts are so big they blind them. Doflamingo should have chosen a guard dog who doesn't lick the hand of the person it has to watch over. He'll probably kill her when he realizes. What a waste. She crosses the darkness, gropes for the staircase that leads to the stream of light,- to freedom-, not surprised to find the door closed ; a lock never stopped her. In a whisper, however, the young woman ruins his plans.

 

     “ The young master always closes behind me. He watches the door until I return. I'm sorry, miss. ”

 

      As she falls back against the wood of the door, she swears under her breath.

 

     “ Baby 5, right?

     - Yes ? ” 

 

     She guesses more than she sees her head straightening and the sparkle in her eyes. 

 

     “ You wouldn’t happen to have a den den mushi, perchance ? ”

 

     Today, it’s been a month since Nami left. Her absence has dug furrows in the earth, wrecked villages. Every day, more and more fishmen angrily follow the coasts, their eyes fixed on the infinity where she hides. And Nojiko can't help but hope that Nami never comes back. Nami could never be a child. She deserves her chance too. Some believe that Arlong took her childhood away with his fists. They would be wrong. Nami has always been like this, long before Arlong. Long before Belmer died. Another child wouldn’t have calmly looked at the lifeless body of their mother, chewed her rage between her teeth, before standing up and bargaining with the man who had just shot her as one would speak to a business-man. Conditions, agreements, considerations, her life had been settled for the next ten years in a couple of minutes : a few gnashing of teeth, a mocking laugh and a handshake. Her little palm drowned in the grip of a shark. Her tears suppressed behind a determination that would not falter in the face of everything she would have to do. She left their house and Nojiko with the eyes of someone who would tear away with her teeth everything that had ever been stolen from her. 

     Today, it is only from Belmer's tomb, perched at the top of the cliff, that we can still watch for Nami's return. Everyone assumes that Nojiko is going here to mourn her mother, but it is the return of her sister, alive, that she is watching for. Even today, the sea is like oil. Not a wave, not a ship on the horizon. Nothing... - Wait. There is definitely something. A boat. Bigger than she's used to them. Loaded with loot, or new problems, who knows. So Nojiko jumps on her two legs, rolling down the hill to the rhythm of her hope. She crosses the paths of a ravaged village, but only finds an enraged child and a cowardly young man. Not a trace of Nami. The coward only brings together other idiots. So she does what she has done all her life. Damage control. Simplify her sister's life as much as possible. She mocks the hope of those who think that a confident smile and a few beautiful lies can be enough to set them free. She watches them walk towards death with a big laugh, and she wonders tersely where she will bury them, when reality grabs them by the throat, crushes their windpipe. Four imbeciles who loved the one who is only lured by their mother's tangerines, maps that smell of salt and the tinkling of gold coins.

 

     “ There is still time to turn around. ” She grabs the straw hat monkey by his jacket, tries to hold between her fingers a last hope of stopping him. “ No one risks their life for a stranger.

     - She’s not a stranger, Nami, she’s our navigator. "

 

     It is said with such idiotic simplicity. Like a certainty that he wouldn’t ever question. So Nojiko laughs. She laughs like some cry. And then, she swallows her laugh, chokes on her hope when she sees a tower and the empire of fishmen collapse in one swoop. She is drowned under the treasure of a life, bloody maps. Years lost on yellowed paper. She fears that fish will emerge, but it’s a monkey that leaps out of the rubble, and ends a reign with a great laugh. They all drown the memories together in big gulps of alcohol, music that hasn’t been played for years, and clumsy, long-forgotten steps. But behind the laughter, Nami’s absence sounds like the death knell for her funeral. 

 

    “ If she’s been gone for a long time, she’ll get there soon, right ? ” The monkey speaks with a laugh, scratching the back of his neck, and Nojiko would love to share his confidence. “ We can wait for her.

      - Maybe she just got lost.

      - Nami-san is a navigator, mosshead. ”

 

     The pervert is right. Nami is not lost. She could draw each East Blue island from memory, detail each coast, each mountain. No, Nami is not lost. A weight compresses her ribcage, threatens to make her yield. Nami can’t-

 

     “ Nojiko ! Nami… Nami’s-”

 

     A scream tears apart the party. Genzo, out of breath, hands her a den den mushi, and before even having time to explain, Nojiko is drowned in a sea of tangled words. Only then did she realize that she had stopped breathing, and she let out a strangled sob.

 

     “ Nojiko ! ” Nami’s voice, shaking. ” I thought you were dead, no one answered in Arlong Park ! I need you to get the money. Yes. Money. He promised. In the hole. I don’t know when I can come back. But I was almost there. Only two thousand berries were missing. Please, with the money from the tangerine’s tree, and all of you, you can be free. Arlong-

     - Arlong has been defeated, Nami. Please, breathe. "

 

      Nojiko would like to take the time to explain it to her, to let her take her first breath of freedom in ten years in peace, but the monkey jumps next to her and shouts : 

 

      “ Oi, Nami ! We’re with your sister, we’re waiting for you, when will you get here ? ”

 

     The silence stretches and stretches, until an exhausted whisper tears it apart.

 

     “ Luffy ? What the fuck are you… No. Nevermind. Listen to me carefully, Luffy. I was never part of your crew. I didn’t need you. Cocoyashi didn’t need you. I almost had the money.

     - Would it kill you to say thank you, witch ? ”

 

     She doesn't back down, and the voice continues, imperturbable. 

 

    “ If you keep taking such risks for every stranger you meet, you will never be a king, you’ll die fighting dragons for ungrateful princesses before you even reach Reverse mountain.”

 

     But Nami didn’t see them fighting. She didn’t see the monkey’s peaceful smile. If she had been there, she would understand that, in his smile, there is good soil for a family. But Nami Nami is not there, she is only a cold voice, transmitted by a placid snail. 

 

     “ I only joined you to use you. But even for that, you were disappointing. The future pirate king is just a stupid kid who doesn't have even a trinket to his name. ” She drowns the monkey’s cry of protest in a flood of words. “ You have no doctor or carpenter, the only way to make your crew more useless would be to make Zoro your navigator. Your piece of driftwood wouldn’t have survived the very first storm in the New World. Hell, even I didn’t dare to go further than Loguetown. 

     - Oi, Nami ! Take back what you said about Merry immediately !

     - Nami ! Apologize ! ” Nojiko barks sharply.

 

     The brave coward has his fists clenched, rage on the edge of his lips, his complexion purple, and she hears him uttering an uninterrupted stream of insults. But the monkey seems calm.

 

     “ Nojiko. ” A whisper, barely audible. “ Get the money back. Be happy. Stay safe. If you ever see a flamingo, run. And please, don’t let the idiots go without my maps. 

      - What the hell are you saying, you’re free, you can come back hom-”

 

      The line cuts suddenly, and Nojiko is left facing uncertainty and silence, punctuated by the insults of the courageous coward and the lost swordsman. However, when she turns to the monkey, he only smiles a grin so wide that it would devour the world, before putting his arms behind his head and setting off to the port. 

 

      “ What the hell are you doing ?

      - Well, we’re going to get our navigator.

     - Luffy. ” The swordsman takes the monkey’s head between his two hands and squeezes. Hard. “ The witch doesn't want to be part of the crew, that’s how it is. Accept it. We get the Merry back-” A grunt of approval from the brave coward. “ And then we’ll find another navigator. 

     - I don’t want another navigator, I want Nami. ” Shared sigh from everyone. “ She already told us where to go ; we pick up Merry in Loguetown. And then we go to the New World, like she did. ”

 

     The perverted cook is the first to burst out laughing ; he drowns the protests of the courageous coward and the lost swordsman in songs to celebrate his “Nami-swan” and Nojiko sighs. The monkey is surprisingly attentive. And stubborn. And Nojiko can’t help but think of the slight tremor that shook Nami’s voice when she asked her to entrust her maps to these fools. So she holds back the monkey by the shoulder.

 

     “ Wait. You will need Nami’s maps. 

     - No. ” He beats time capriciously with his foot on the ground. “ The only maps from Nami that I will accept are the ones she’ll do with us. ”

 

      And then he leaves, whistling, as if he was not about to sail without a navigator, or without maps. She still manages to hold back the courageous coward, and give him a map leading to Loguetown. He is not as reckless as his captain is ; he accepts before trotting again behind his captain. The perverted cook is the last to leave, and, briefly serious, he interrupts his nuptial dance, just long enough to slip the code of their den den mushi into her palms.

 

      “ When she comes back, please tell her to contact us, Nojiko-san. ”

 

      “ Never took you for the sentimental goodbyes type. ”

 

     His words, gravel in a silken voice. She lets herself fall against the wood of the door, her head thrown back, staring into the darkness, and imagines them, both back to back, both prisoners of his ambitions. The laugh that escapes her is devoid of any humor.

 

     “ You expected Baby 5 to let me do what I wanted, huh ? 

     - I wonder what I would learn if I tried to trace this call. 

    - I'll save you time. ” She fabricates a half-truth as quickly as he spins his webs. “ I have spent the last few years in Cocoyashi, the base of a fishman, Arlong. I just learned that he was defeated. ”

 

      She doesn't need to see him, she knows well enough the way his lips twist into a razor-blade smile, and she hears his laugh even in the inflection of his voice. 

 

      “ I see, I guess it was the tearful goodbye with your last captain? Did you take him to the scaffold too ? ”

 

     She swallows her rage, chokes on it, and punches the door, hard. 

 

     “ Shut up. Get his name out of your mouth. ”

 

    She dreams of tearing between her claws the almost hoarse laugh that fills the silence. But nothing has changed in 20 years ; she's always on the wrong side of the door.

Chapter 3: The witch's destiny forecast

Notes:

And that's a new chapter quite on time ! Thank you again to Mikan for your review, and I hope you'll all like this chapter !

18 FEB 1522

     The witch drew their route to Loguetown. To Merry. And Usopp could have sobbed right there, when they found their companion, quietly moored in one of the city’s old ports, out of sight. Safe. So, while the others rush to take a trip to town, buy weapons or supplies, Usopp volunteers to guard the ship. A pathetic excuse, but neither Zoro nor Sanji comment on it. As for Luffy, he already left for the scaffold. He can only hope he will bring back a navigator with him, and not a horde of marines.

 

     “ We can always dream, ” he sighs.

 

     Setting foot on Merry again is like reuniting with an old friend. Her boards creak under his feet, as if to welcome him and he catches himself smiling. With a gentle hand, he follows the veins of the wood, caresses the balustrade, greets Merry back. On another day, he would have been disappointed not to see Loguetown, the town where the Pirate King was born and died. Not today. Today, Usopp is relishing the reunion with Merry. She didn’t suffer a single damage, no scrap metal plates, no extra nails. It’s painful to admit it, but the witch took care of their ship, their “piece of driftwood”, and Nami’s harsh words ring hollow in the silence. Usopp sighs ; silence is a reward, after five days of Luffy’s excited cries, and Sanji and Zoro’s exchanges of insults. He is not about to ruin it by thinking of her. So, for a moment, he basks in this silence, the one that makes even the song of the seagulls and the chatter of passers-by audible. From the top of the crow’s nest, he squints his eyes in the vain hope of seeing the scaffold. And then, he goes back downstairs, enters the kitchen : immediately, he freezes. On the table, fruits, scattered, neglected. The dishes, washed, dry in the open air. A map of the region, spread out on the table, annotated with a few remarks. His heart beats wildly, and his steps guide him, absent to himself, to Nami’s room. He’s never been there before, but in the blink of an eye : he knows. 

     It is exactly as it had always been. A few rags, thrown loose on the ground. The unmade bed. Maps, so many maps, carefully sorted in a large cardboard portfolio. Her pencil is still placed on a sheet, an island. Spider Miles. North Blue. The sketch is crossed out, imprecise, as if made from memory. The rest of her work is always impeccably precise ; Spider Miles is a land of shaky lines. His bad feeling only grows. But it’s only when he finds a large purse still filled to the brim with gold coins in the trunk at the foot of her bed that Usopp turns white. Nami would never have given up a single berry.

 

     “ Nami, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into … ? ”

 

     When the others return from their wandering in town, with laughter on their lips and marines on their heels, Usopp slams the door to Nami’s room, casts off, and in an instant, takes a decision that he will regret more than once : he remains silent, holds the secret between his pursed lips and smiles, as if he had not seen between the walls of her room the proof that Luffy was looking for.

     The witch cursed the Merry. It has become Zoro’s refrain for the past two days. Usopp doesn’t have the heart to correct him. He can’t risk Luffy finding out, even if it means Zoro will curse her every time the weather turns cloudy. He heard him more than once drown out insincere insults in the gusts of winds. You can’t blame Nami for being right ; they are not ready for the Grand Line, and even less for the New World. Since Cocoyashi, they have already faced two storms. Not even to mention their disastrous crossing of Reverse Mountain. Their journey almost ended against the reefs. Luffy saved them, at the very last minute, by single-handedly pulling the ship to the entrance, but the hull had already taken serious damage. Every day, Merry’s condition only gets worse. And the other fool can’t think of anything better to do than plant their mast on a whale’s head. Sorry, Laboon. He’s replaced so many boards that he can’t help but wonder what’s left of Kaya’s original gift. He sleeps in the hold, terrified of seeing the water seeping in, devouring them little by little during the night. During the day, he obsessively reinforces every flaw, every trace of wear, and only emerges on the deck for meals. The company of the others irritates him, so sometimes, he wonders if Merry isn’t the only one he’s comfortable with. Luffy is reckless, Zoro unable to navigate a straight road, and Sanji unable to focus, too busy strutting in front of the only one that gets their ship running : A princess who tried to murder them. Fantastic. What a great team.

 

     “ Usopp ? ”

     The said princess, at the top of the stairs, calls to him, uncertain. In the darkness, he imagines her squinting, looking for his silhouette. She is uncomfortable around him, and the feeling is mutual. For one, she tried to kill them, and he is not one to overlook that too quickly. But what really bothers him, is that Vivi is the only one to know that Nami’s room isn’t empty, but cluttered with maps, clothes and her absence. He only allowed her to drop off her things in exchange for a promise, the assurance that she would not utter a word about what she saw in that room. He wrapped the story in a pretty lie, a story of mourning to be done, of a wound still open, still painful, which was better left alone, forgotten, never mentioned again. All lies take roots in even the smallest part of truth after all. Now, Usopp knows that in the venom of Nami’s words, we can also find a small dose of truth, like the moral of a story, a warning uttered by the witch that we do not listen to : 

 

    “ You will never be a king, you’ll die fighting dragons for ungrateful princesses. ”

 

     It kills him, but she was right, they might die for a princess that didn’t hesitate to poison their food. He sighs, and nails yet another board to the dying body of his dreams. Suddenly, a laugh. He freezes. They won’t eat tonight.

 

     “ Oi, Usopp, storm ! ”

 

     Zoro's warning was useless. These days, Luffy's loud bursts of laughter only announce a new disaster; Only this dumbass still calls them “adventures”. He trots towards the bridge, without hurrying. This is only the third storm of the week. They repeat the emergency maneuvers like a dance gradually emptied of its soul. Zoro even has the nerve to yawn while tying his knots. Vivi's panicked cries lost flavor; she will eventually get used to it too. However, today, when Usopp finally decides to observe the ocean, he turns white.

 

     " Shit. ”

 

     Gigantic gusts toss them around like rag dolls, and Usopp, for a moment, sees Kaya again. Her smile when she saw them go on an adventure, the way she said goodbye to them, as if to say “see you later”. The creaking of the planks in the hold sounds to his ears like the crunching of crushed bones. Kaya. He tries to remember the color of her irises, the way a strand of hair always falls into her eyes. He filled dozens and dozens of sheets of sketches of her. It wasn't enough. Part of the railing, already weakened, gives way, flies away, joins the tornado, showing them the path to their destiny. Kaya. Her laugh. The narrowing of her eyes. The softness of her hand, of her cheek. Her voice. He forgot her voice. 

 

     “ I’m so sorry. I love you, Kaya. ”

 

     His last thoughts are for her, his last words too, while inexorably, the ship is dragged towards their end, a hurricane from which they will not survive. 

 

     Nevermind. 

 

     A hurricane which they would not have survived without Luffy’s pure dumb luck.

 

     The Merry is the carcass of his broken dreams. And even Luffy no longer has the heart to laugh. He watches, with a somber look, the disparate planks that remain. The mast, reduced to pieces, crushed by the storm. They should have been crushed too. They should have been swept away by the sea. Instead, they are lying in the snow, battered but alive. And, for a brief instant, Usopp wonders if he would not have liked it better if Luffy had disappeared between the waves, never to emerge again. He chases the thought away with a shudder of horror, but it’s too late ; the resentment has taken root. He hears, as if in a dream, the crew talking about a new ship, as if they were replacing an old cushion, and his blood runs cold in his veins. The words that escape him are fiery snakes.

 

     “ Replace Merry ? Merry is in this state in the first place because you refuse to replace a witch who has no intention of ever joining us. She betrayed us ! Merry has always been loyal, and what exactly did you do to protect her, huh ? ” He regrets his words the second they leave his lips, but the rage breathes life anew into him. “ You go through any situation as if you only have to charge straight ahead to survive. Merry is not like that. I’m not like that. ”

 

     He remembers, distantly, grabbing Luffy by the collar. Screaming until his throat was dry. He remembers a fury of blows, the feeling of rubber bending against his fist. He remembers the pain. And darkness.

 

     “ And how, pray tell, were you planning to go all the way to Alabasta ? By balancing on the few planks you have left ? You’re kidding, ” sneers the doctor, brutally tightening her bandages.

 

     With each breath, he feels a sharp pain between his ribs. He won’t waste his saliva on an old woman who has done nothing but poke fun at him since the others dropped him off here.

 

     “ I mean, at least you would have made a good appetizer for the sea monsters, conveniently standing on a little toothpick, they would have eaten you wh-

     - Merry is in this state because of that asshole, ” he spits. The coughing fit that gets stuck in his throat quickly makes him regret having barked. “ He refuses to get another navigator. On the Grand Line.

     - Ha ! What kind of moron would do that ? ”

 

     Her witch’s laugh, like grinding nails against a chalkboard, which brings life to his migraine anew. He dreams of telling her to shut up, but his throat is still on fire. When she finally stops laughing, she turns to him.

 

     “ If this dunderhead won’t recruit a new navigator,-” She crosses her arms, and gives him a broad grin. “ Then learn it yourself. What the fuck is he going to do, kick you off the crew because you’ve become more competent ? ”

 

     The book she throws on his lap weighs the weight of Nami’s absence. Of uncertainty. And of everything that still remains to be done. When Merry sank, Nami’s presence disappeared with her. He should feel relieved, he no longer has to hide the secret of her bedroom, like a terrified Bluebeard. The secret lies at the bottom of the ocean. But it dug in his chest, and when it disappeared into the depths of the seas, it only left behind an emptiness. Her clothes, her jewelry, her life’s work, probably, lost in the waves. He can picture the ink mixing with the water, the shapes becoming imprecise. Of all Nami’s maps, there is one that keeps coming to his mind. The land made of shaky lines. Spider Miles. So he raises his head towards the doctor, and in a low voice, as if he could soften the weight of his words, he whispers : 

 

     “ Do you have a volume one North Blue ? ”

Notes:

Surprisingly enough, I wanted to keep the story quite close to what it is in canon. Except for Nami's backstory, actions and their impact obviously. And I stumbled into this question : what would Luffy do without Nami ? I don't think he would have made it, but he was always quite lucky, so I had to wonder how he could survive, and what toll would it take on the crew. As you can guess, it's not the last you'll see of the straw hats ! No Doflamingo or Nami this week, you'll have to wait for next Saturday ! Thank you for reading !

Chapter 4: To the one we did not become

5 MAR 1522

     Her lungs are on fire. Every gulp of air is harsh, burning her throat and squeezing her heart. Air. She needs air. Breathe. Quickly. Then, the apnea again. Her nails cling to the sodden ship’s planks, her hands full of splinters. She had forgotten what it was like ; to drown. She had forgotten the terror, the icy water, the bite of the cold on her skin. She had forgotten the feeling of her lungs slowly filling with water. The current, tossing her around a doll made of flesh. She distantly hears Jora’s almost demented cackle. Senor Pink’s whispers, slightly concerned, but still playing the unaffected. The agitation of Baby 5, busy looking for how she could be useful. But above all, she hears the fishman who saved her walking away in an uninterrupted stream of curses, to the rhythm of the clicking of his high heels. He rather preferred her chained in the hold, when she couldn’t bother him with her dumb escape plans. He’s right. She preferred to be chained too. She had forgotten what it was like to lie between the fangs of the sea, too busy fleeing from the fangs of a spider. She had regretted jumping at the very moment her body hit the water, at the very first held breath, at the very moment the current dragged her toward the depths. The hand of the bastard fishman, when he had closed his grip around her ankle, for an instant, had become something other than the thread that would drag her back to the spider’s web ; it was a life jacket that would bring her to the surface. The illusion only lasted a moment, it shattered when her savior dropped her, lying flat on the planks of the ship, at Doflamingo’s feet. All of it would have been worth it anyway, in exchange for her freedom. But no, she is still trapped in the shadow of his laugh, while he leans towards her, and extends a supposedly friendly hand.

 

     “ Did you get it out of your system with your little swim ? Happy to come back to us ? ”

 

     With a sharp slap, Nami rejects his peace offer; pride and rage combined in one gesture.

 

     “ I hope one day, you’ll be the one lost in the depths of the sea. ” Her smile has more teeth than fondness. “ That’s the only place I would happily find you again. ”

 

     She stands up alone, conceals her trembling hands and her terror in the pockets of her jeans, takes a step towards the kitchen. She needs a drink. To chase away the salty taste of drowning. To warm up. To-

 

     “ Don’t test my patience, Nami. ”

 

     His grip on her arm, hot on her frozen skin. And then, nothing ; the same smile stripped of any joy. The same one he maintains throughout the meal, when he watches her emptying glass after glass. It drowns out Senor Pink’s macho protests, Jora’s chatter and the fishman's high-pitched cackle. Baby 5 is the only one that doesn’t make her want to scream, and that’s probably due to the fact that the brunette is wisely careful to keep her glass full, and her own mouth shut. It’s only at the bottom of her last bottle that Nami finally finds the strength to move away from the buzzing of the insects, and staggers to the bridge. An arm comes to support her, steady her in her step, and she glares at him.

 

     “ I don’t need help, ” she barks. 

     - Oh, sorry, could have fooled me. ” She hates his laugh more than anything. She would like to lacerate it, tear it to pieces between her claws. “ I guess you prefer to continue wallowing on the ground ? ”

 

     She pushes him away sharply,- perhaps she’s starting to make a habit of it-, and ends up in the bed, too big for him, too big for two, but still too small for them both. Usually, she sleeps with Baby 5. Doflamingo doesn’t like that, she knows it full well. More than once, he dragged her to his bedroom, entwined in his threads. Today, she has no patience for their little ego contest. Weariness weighs its weight on her eyelids, and sleep’s arms reach out for her, but it is Doflamingo’s hands that finally embrace hers. She opens her eyes, fully awake now, and barks : 

 

     “ What the hell do you think you’re doing ? 

     - Shh … ” His fingers, caressing her wrists. “ You know, I didn’t expect you to become some lowly thief, stuck in some miserable corner of the East Blue. ” She frowns, daring him to continue, but he ignores her. She even feels his smile against her wrists. “ Stealing pitiful fools to survive, really ? Did you come back to that ? Such a disappointment … ” His knee, between her legs. “ Back in the days, you didn’t even know what to do with all your treasures anymore. The kind of woman who would even fool Roger. ” She bares her teeth, growls ; he only chuckles. “ Tell me, how long until you go back to the one I knew ?

     - It’ll probably never happen. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust you thrice. ”

 

     Her sneer dies in her throat when she feels his fingers dig into her flesh, hears the grinding of his teeth despite his predatory smirk. His voice is only a low rumble when he hisses against her skin.

 

     “ How long. 

     - I’m eighteen right now. 

    - Ten years. ” He relaxes his grip, and the strength he puts into his grin. She won't let that fool her, won't ignore the hunger behind pink glasses. “ Ten years with this weak body ? Look at you ! You couldn’t even get out of my grip, not today, not in Loguetown. ” His gaze clouds over. “ You had the potential to be so much more, if you hadn’t left, if you hadn’t become … this. ” His hand, on her cheeks, squeezes, hard. “ Is this really everything you hoped you could be ? A kid-”

 

     Suddenly, she knees him between the legs, enjoying the melody of his grunts, while he folds in on himself.  With one hand, she massages her aching wrists, as if to chase away the feel of his touch. 

 

      “ Don’t you ever dare to treat me like a child. Or I'll make sure you never get kids, ” she spits before sending a look of contempt at his unwavering grin. “ I didn’t take you for a masochist. ”

 

     The room has become unbearable, the air charged with a tension that she does not want to address. Sleep has definitely eluded her now, going back to the deck of the ship no longer sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Doflamingo’s step echoes her own ; there is nowhere to run from him, but here at least, he won’t dare to touch her like he did, not in plain sight. At least, she can always hope so.

 

     “ You should pull yourself together, stop this bullshit before you end up dead. ” She whispers as she sits down on the planks, raising an eyebrow at him when he imitates her. “ I didn’t think I would ever see the day when you’ll lower yourself to join me on the ground. ” A small pause. Vicious smile. “ Nevermind, you’ve already fallen low enough in my esteem. ”

 

     She chews the words between her lips, tasting the flavor before spitting them out.

 

    “ What about you, is that really all you could become, a killer ? Some gangster hiding behind a silly monicker ? Joker, really ? I thought you wanted to become something... more. ”

 

     Watching him look away, retreating into silence is an intoxicating pastry, sickeningly sweet, like her ridiculous dreams of a world where he could have become something more, something splendid, instead of this monster, his humanity hanging by a bloody thread. Her smile falls, and she tries to ignore her nausea. Tomorrow, Nami will blame it on the alcohol.

 

 

8 MAR 1522

     “ Should I call Dellinger ? ”

 

     Senor Pink barely holds any smile in his voice. So, perched balanced on the bow of the ship, she doesn't bother to offer him one in return. It would have more teeth than good will anyway. 

 

     “ Let him sleep, I have no intention of trying to swim again ; the water is freezing, and it’s still cold. ”

 

     Still no smile. Nor a laugh. He changed so much. A silence stretches, she fills it in herself with intertwined reveries and memories, of a time when a young man laughed, perched on his ship’s bow. She thought that, maybe, if she perched herself up there, she would understand what was making him laugh. She sees nothing, except for the horizon. That’s useless musing ; by now, they are most likely all dead.

 

     “ We changed course suddenly, she notes flatly.

     - A rookie started causing trouble on the Grand Line. He overthrew Crocodile.

     - Mh. I guess Doflamingo finds it hilarious. 

    - He looks rather intrigued. ” A pacifier sucking sound that echoes to her like a symphony of his decline. “ Marie-Joie wants a new Shichibukai, a man, a real one, not the type who gets busted by a new kid barely out of diapers. ”

 

     She glances at the diaper in which he is drowning, and bites back a disdainful snort. 

 

     “ What happened to you ?

     - What about you ? ”

 

     They trade their judgment as one would trade a knowing glance. They don’t really know what else to do anymore after all these years. She dreams of draping him in the suit he once wore, he dreams of draping her in the years she spent away from them. She hates the wrinkles that appear around the pacifier he chews on, he hates the youth of her skin and the ancient look in her eyes. Time works against the flow for them. A river flowing from the sky. Nothing can stop it, we can only see the damage it leaves behind.

 

     “ So, what did you do after you left ? ”

 

     Interest lying behind carefully neutral tone. She tilts her head back, hoping to read his gaze behind his dark glasses. She likes to see them like the last ramparts of his dignity, what remains of his old mafioso uniform. Not a smile. His posture, arms crossed, legs apart, firmly anchored in the ground, betrays nothing. But there is a familiar feel in his voice, so for the first time in weeks, Nami makes a confession disguised behind a peaceful tone and a shrug.

 

     “ A bit of everything. I found a family, I lost them, and I hustled, hoping to save what I had left. And now, I’m here. What about you ?

      - More or less the same thing. ”

 

Notes:

I can't help but imagine Doflamingo and Nami's interractions as barely repressed rage, it's always a question of who will finally snap first. To be honest, Nami's odds aren't quite good.

Thank you so much for reading this chapter, hope you liked it ! See you next week for the next one !

Chapter 5: Overworked hope

9 MAR 1522

     “ Doflamingo is no longer scared of anything. Neither the other pirates, nor the navy.” 

 

     She fills every word with poison between her lips, and her rage lingers in her throat. Her fury will find no echo, and certainly not with Senor Pink, below, who barely looks up at her.

 

     “ You should get away from the threads, they are here to protect you. ”

 

      Bullshit. He weaved their prison in white threads.

 

     “ From whom ? Them ? Look at them for fuck’s sake ! ” Marines on station, exhausted, tense. Their eyes dart nervously, gauging the probability that at any given moment, a monster could emerge from this Trojan horse. “ They are terrified. ”

 

     She dreams of tearing between her claws the cage that Doflamingo draped around the ship before happily strutting away. But it’s not like she could do it. No one escapes the birdcage, the tamed creatures even find a form of comfort in there, forgetting a bit too quickly that at any moment, Doflamingo could decide to close it on them. Until he has undone every last one of his threads, she will not close an eye. So she takes a big gulp of hot coffee, numbing her fury with fire as her frozen hands wrap around the cup. The meeting at Mary Geoise should have only lasted a few hours. Night has fallen ; he still hasn’t returned.

 

     “ They could always try to shoot between the threads. You shouldn't make their life easier by perching up there. You know how much he hates it, ” Senor Pink retorts flatly, adjusting his sunglasses. In the middle of the night. “ You should go to bed, wait until the men have finished talking.

     - Pour me some coffee, instead of spewing nonsense. ”

 

     They never leave her alone. Not even for a second. Doflamingo made a game out of it ; Dellinger a chore. Baby 5 has the decency of making herself scarce, of being nothing more than an unbearable cigarette's smell ; Jora likes to talk her ear off with her ideals on art and beauty. She rather prefers the mostly peaceful company of Senor Pink. She notes out of the corner of her eye his shrug, his displayed nonchalance, worn like a badge of honor, and sighs. He certainly won’t bring her any. The coffee dances, swirls at the bottom of her pot. She still has enough for two more cups. The frozen bite of March’s wind paralyzes her nerves, numbing her fingers, so Nami tightens them around her cup. One of the last in a long line of drinks sacrificed to her insomnia. At this rate, she will have to leave her perch in less than an hour.

 

     “ It’s nostalgic. ”

 

     She almost jumps out of her skin, Senor Pink’s deep voice in the face of silence contrasts with the mess of ideas running through her head.

 

      “ Of ?

     - You did exactly the same thing back then. ” A shiver of disgust runs through her, and she swallows it with another sip of coffee. “ You kept watch over him all night, like some kind of mother hen.

     - It wasn’t the same, ” she mutters coldly. “ I used to be worried about him. Now, I'm way more worried about the poor unfortunate souls that have the misfortune of ever crossing paths with him. ”

 

     Yes, there was a time when Nami watched for his return, observing his features as closely as she observed the sea. She remembers committing to memory every worried crease on his face, every nervous smile, and every look consumed by ambition. She remembers staying up late, like tonight, only to find Doflamingo drowned in papers, exhausted by contracts, overworked to the point of obsession. Doflamingo always knew that power is not only found in violence. She would have been ready to encourage him in this direction. She remembers proofreading documents with him, lit by the light of a candle that she would tirelessly be the first to blow out. The documents were highly encrypted, and she had clung to the excuse that she couldn’t possibly know what they entailed. Back when she still wanted to believe that behind his bloody fists and his soulless grin, there was still someone who would become great, and a good person, in his own way. 

 

     “ We can’t lie to ourselves forever, ” she concludes bitterly.

 

     She needs way more than coffee. Maybe some of that good whiskey. So she lets herself fall from the head of the pink flamingo, as if going down a slide. She never reaches the ground, caught in a spider’s web, suspended a few centimeters from the wooden planks.

 

     She could swear she felt her hairs stand up when she caught sight of Doflamingo to her left, freshly returned, from the corner of her eye.

 

     “ Fufufu, that’s adorable. ” With one hand he unties his threads; with the other, tightens his grip on her waist. “ I didn’t expect you to wait for me all night. ”

 

     Senor Pink left her alone against that smile, disappearing into the night without a word. Oh. What a man. And she can't even blame him, she too, dreams of running away. Especially when he throws her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of revolt, her fists hitting his back to the rhythm of his bursts of laughter. She nourishes with her screams the hope that one of the guards at the station will eventually prove to be a hero, a slayer of ambitious monsters. But Nami doesn't need to glance towards the docks to sense the shifty eyes of those who aren't even strong enough to be witnesses. They refute impotence with a presumption of ignorance. She can't blame them. Her hope is only a fantasy, silenced by a large palm over her mouth.

 

     “ I have nothing against making you scream, you know that-,” A ​​silken voice, a revolting purr that resonates inside her body. “-but you'll wake the whole ship, Nami. ”

 

    She freezes, accepting the unacceptable. He only lets go of her to better lock her between his body and the mattress of his cabin. He only stops laughing to nest his nose in the crook of her neck, his teeth against her skin. His hands run along her waist, up along her sternum, and when his fingers come to caress the amber stone that is lodged there, she shivers in disgust, steps back suddenly, and bumps against the headboard in a brutal collision.

 

     “ Fuck !

     - Relax, I'm way too tired for everything that's going through your mind. 

     - You're kidding me, it's you who-”

 

     Her protests are drowned in a strangled sound when he throws a large T-shirt in her face, eloquently. 

 

    “ A shirt ? Really ? ” A raised eyebrow on her best perplexed look. Years of training. “ No stupidly elaborate lingerie ? No fine lace ?

     - I must have your things in a drawer if that's what you want. I'm not sure it's still your size though, your chest looks way sma-

      - Don't even finish this sentence. The shirt is good. ”

 

     She waits in vain for him to turn around, for him to offer her some privacy, even if it only takes place behind closed eyelids. He doesn't do anything about it, obviously. Then over her top, she unhooks her bra and takes it off, before pulling her borrowed top over her head, and removing hers by passing it over her hips. Her dignity is only held in a layer of fine cotton, and a piece of black lace that she begins to regret when he grabs her by the hips and makes her fall against his chest, that he lodges her right against him, and his threads slide against her skin, tightening his grip. His blissful sigh at this moment is much more of a mockery than the confession that escapes him in a barely audible whisper.

 

     “ I missed that. ”

 

     She stares stubbornly at the wall of the cabin, the regular, light, clean wood. Ignore the dull beating of his heart, ignore the warmth of his chest, ignore the weight of his gaze on her. Gritted teeth and tightened fists. Smoothed over for the sake of a play of nonchalance. 

 

     “ I didn’t. I have celebrated every day away from you for the past twenty years.

     - Eighteen years. 

    - Mh? ” She works on her indifference with the same care as the lipstick she applies in the morning, her smile manufactured from scratches. “ Anyway, it wasn’t enough.  ”

 

     He doesn't respond, just strokes her hair in what can only be a revolting parody of tenderness. Grotesque. Emptied of meaning. And when the den den mushi rings, Nami is relieved to feel the presence of his hand disappear, even in favor of a muffled, threatening growl and a tightening of his strings around her. 

 

     “ I really hope it’s an emergency. ”

 

     From where she is, she can barely see Doflamingo's tense smile, but she can clearly hear the grinding of his teeth.

 

     “ Mh. ” A flood of words whose panicked inflection she can guess. “ Mh. ” The man should shut up, realize that there are no words that can appease Doflamingo. “ Mh. I'll be there in a few hours, I think we need to have a little chat. ” 

 

     If that man has any survival instinct, he will have disappeared into the wild within an hour at most. The smile that stretches his lips does nothing to reassure her. 

 

     “ We are changing course. ”

 

     The rushed footsteps upstairs tell her that a doll made of threads already took care of waking up Baby 5 and Dellinger, who are surely rushing to the helm to adjust their itinerary once again. She snickers nervously, tries to ignore his hand against her ribs, his laugh in her ear, and squashes the feeling behind unimportant chatter.

 

     “ You would think that a king would spend less time at sea, and more time ensuring the proper functioning of his kingdom. 

     - Fufufu, it’s really moving that you stayed up to date with what’s going on in my life, even when you were away. ” The feeling of his hand caressing the back of his neck is glaring evidence of her failure. “ I knew you must have thought of me. 

     - I’m mostly worried for the poor people who found themselves with a king who prefers the sea to his lands... And yet this is the least of your faults. 

     - Don’t worry, you know I’m not the type to leave Dressrosa unsupervised, my best generals watch over the well-being of the population. ”

 

     She lets out a contemptuous sneer, and even Doflamingo doesn't hold back his snort at the enormity of what he's just said. 

 

      “ Ha ! One of your best generals, like Trebol, or like Corazon? ” 

 

      His laughter is full of knives, and she shivers.

 

      “ More like Trebol. And while he makes sure that everything goes as planned there, I make sure that there is no new...-

     - Future threat to your reign as a tyrant?

     - … variables to take into account in the rest of the world. In this case, one of my…

     - Minions ?

     - Almost. Collaborators. ” She rolls her eyes, he ignores her grimace. “ Anyway, this collaborator came across an interesting monkey. It won’t be long, two weeks, at most. We'll go visit Corazon after that. ”

 

     His smile eats his face, and devours all the warmth in the hollow of her chest, leaving only a gaping void, an echo of anguish, dull but as persistent as the regular flow of drops of water.

 

     “ Get some sleep, you should be in good shape for the show. ”

 

     He holds her more comfortably against him, but that night, Nami won't sleep a wink. Neither will she the night after that. Doflamingo’s humming is some death’s knell, only covered at last, a few days later, by Baby 5’s loud voice warning them of their arrival on Mock Town.

Notes:

I'm not usually one to post in the morning, but I was really happy about how this chapter turned out. I struggled a lot with this one, and I feel like I finally found how to express their weird dynamic, between familiarity and repulsion. She would let him get close to her, until it's too much and she runs away. She knows how to pick her battles with him.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll see you next week !

Chapter 6: Bloody puppet

Notes:

I really hope I'll be able to convey Nami and Doflamingo's complex history in understandable fragments. Thank you all for still reading this story and for your support, hope you will all like this week's chapter !

17 MAR 1522

     Crushed bones and crushed spirits between his strings. That is the sound of Mock Town for her now. Desperate wails, shameful pleading, nails digging into the palms of their hands, and feet so rooted to the ground they taint the soil red. Faces covered in snot and tears, hands soaked in gore. Messy swinging, shaky swords.

 

      Useless struggle, unavoidable tragedy.

 

      They should have run. Now it’s too late to interrupt the show, and Nami certainly won’t be the one to stop Doflamingo. He’s having way too much fun, munching on their dignity with a toothy smile and a delighted cackle. Nami doesn’t twitch, sitting on a barrel, legs crossed, one of his hands around her waist while he makes battered puppets dance with the other.

 

     “ Isn’t this so fun ? Look, they are so pathetic ! ”

 

     They are. Bloodied mouth. Ripped muscles. Overworked flesh. It’s easier to cope when they’re just that. If she focuses too much on the litany of apology that they whisper when they maul each other, she might retch. There must have been tenderness between them, when their movements were their own, there must have been-

 

      “ Stop. ”

 

     She didn’t expect her voice to join their plea, not with this cracked growl that got stuck midway in her throat, nor did she expect her hand, clasped around Doflamingo’s. But it’s all it took for a sword to remain perfectly still in the air, and a punch to brutally stop before hitting a jaw. Their tremors ; the last telltale of the passing of time. And Doflamingo’s laugh, his eyes strained on her. So she manufactures more certainty than she feels. Less fear, and way more boredom.

 

     “ You had your fun, but too much fun, and they’ll have no use anymore.

     - I have no use for weak men anyway. ”

 

     It feels like bargaining with Arlong. There is no reasoning him, only stroking his ego, and flattering his interests. And he is too smart not to notice what she is doing, but he lets her do it anyway. He is only playing with his food, waiting to see if she can cook anything better.

 

      “ I do. ”

 

     She has no plan. No brilliant idea on how to use broken men, the kind that will never trust Doflamingo again in their life. The only thing that he succeeded to do with his little stunt is to beat some sense of self-preservation in them. Hopefully. So she approaches the blond man, carefully, like she would a wounded beast. And maybe, that’s what he is now, what he will always be. She crouches down next to him, inspects the gushing cut on the side of his face, chipped tooth and broken nose. Cold touch, her hand on his cheek, the unforgiving bite of alcohol on his wound. He doesn't budge, doesn't whine ; pride crushed between clenched teeth. She has no bandages to give, only tight stitches, made with a hand she hopes steady, focused eyes and a placid voice when she mutters :  

 

     “ Drown him in gold ; I’ll make sure he’ll keep you around. ”

 

     She would like to say the harshness doesn't feel like her. But cruelty’s been her home again since Arlong, and she slips right into it. Clenched teeth, low growls, mechanical gestures, devoid of any tenderness. And the whispers she lets fall in his ears are no less unkind.

 

     “ Or better yet, run, somewhere he won’t find you. ”

 

     She holds out her hand, in a detached manner that still has Doflamingo humming. So she offers no comfort, no gentleness when he takes her hand in his own, soaked in blood. But no winces either. She won’t shy away from what she let happen to him. 

 

      “ He will work for me. “ She leaves no room for compromise behind her assured tone and straight posture. Doflamingo doesn't try. “ It’s pretty much the same as working for you, right ? Except no stain on your name if he ever happened to fuck up again. 

      - I-

      - Shut up. ”

 

     She silences the battered man’s protest with more bite than was strictly necessary. It feels like tearing into a wounded flesh ; tender pride between her fangs. She doesn’t even know his name. And Doflamingo keeps observing her, his eternal smile etched onto his face. 

 

     “ Do you care for strays now ? 

     - Still do, yes. ”

 

     “ Fufufu… Are you about to watch the ocean until you can’t even see them anymore ?

     - It’s cloudy today, ” she dully notes.

 

     His chuckle doesn’t amuse her. It’s a confession, tragedy disguised as comedy, the end of a life as a punchline. 

 

     “ You would kill me if I were to get rid of a fool willing to work for you for free. Especially if he’s desperate enough to get you a fuckload of cash. 

     - That never stopped you before. 

     - Well, people change, Nami. ”

 

     She guffaws, chokes on her indignation in an exhausted cackle, nervous, like a derailed piece of machinery. So she protects herself the best way she knows how to ; knees drawn against her chest, lips pursed in a tight line, brows furrowed and eyes focused on his face, she spits her poison : 

 

      “ You don’t. ”

 

     She carefully watches for some hurt, clouding his expression. But she is right, as spiteful as she is ; he won’t ever change. His smile is the same as it was, twenty years ago, when he took her hand in his own,- still soaked in the blood of the poor sod who thought he could seduce a pretty girl with a lovely smile and a few drinks-. He still drapes his arms around her, a hug devoid of tenderness, that feels more like trapping her than loving her. He still rests his chin on her shoulder, his sing-song voice chanting murder in the shell of her ear :

 

     “ You’re right, maybe I could kill him, ” he muses.

 

     She hopes her stare is condamnetion enough for him to stay next to her, to wait for another day for another butchery. His smirk mocks her for missing a joke she obviously should have been privy to.

 

     “ Don’t be silly Nami, he’s no competition. ” His snickering, the whole idea, laughable. She still doesn’t get the punchline. After a silence, his raised eyebrows, and disbelieving chuckle. “ Wait. Did you really expect me to be worried about some spring-loaded prick ? 

     - I wouldn’t put it past you. You once felt threatened by a debt-ridden casino loser. ” 

 

     Clenched teeth. Something like a sick celebration of his rage in her voice when she keeps going :

 

     “ You can blame impulsivity when you do it once. Not after seven of them. ” His face falls, only for a brief instant, and the corners of her lips only rise. “ Oh, sorry, were you under the impression that I didn’t know ? 

     - Don’t be cross with me, you knew how it would end. ”

 

     She surveys the sea, refuses to face a smile sharpened by wrath. A silence, swallowing them whole. His hair tickles her cheek. She wants to chase him away. Grab him by the hair, and make sure he experiences what he did to them. She tries to remember their faces ; their agony clearer than the sound of their voice when they had the misfortune of calling her pretty. She used to think it was funny, his brows furrowed, annoyance on his ever smiling face. Not anymore. Not after she saw what he did-. 

 

     “ You knew, yet I never saw you like that. Mind telling me what got you so shaken up ? 

     - Sorry ? 

     - Your hands. ”

 

    She never even realized that she had been shaking. She hopes she didn’t butcher the face of the blond bloody puppet.

 

     “ Not a huge fan of the puppet’s master thing. A fishman once threw a friend like a ragdoll like that. Quite an unpleasant experience. 

     - That’s funny. You didn’t used to be scared of much. ”

 

     From the corner of her eyes, she can only half-guess his smile, more easy going than it has any right to be. That's when she realizes how serious he is. So she scoffs, disbelief in a breath.

 

     “ Are you fucking with me ? ” Amusement, dancing a waltz on his lips with the smallest confusion. He’s not. “ The only reason why I wasn’t terrified every second of your little shenanigans before was because I planned every little detail to make sure I wouldn’t get hurt !

     - I really don’t see why, you’re immortal, what’s the wors-

   - Dying is unpleasant, and I don't fancy using it as a foolproof plan to escape every shitty- and entirely avoidable- situation. For someone who could die at any moment, you were entirely too relaxed about getting yourself in absurdly dangerous situations, and I won't blindly follow your steps. ” 

 

     She doesn’t miss the way his eyes roam over her chest, and the shiny little thing buried in her plexus, the white scarring around the amber shards and the pulsating life in her veins. He’s too smart to ask for an answer she won’t give.

 

     She rises, dust herself off of sand, her eyes fleeting, anywhere away from him. The sun burns her cornea. Salt, sea and sense of self drown in his scent. 

 

     “ You can’t see the ship of the puppet anymore. And I’m still here. Can we go, now ? 

     - Mh. ”

 

     Yes. It left the horizon, and she hopes she’ll never see any of the haunting faces of the one that were stripped of dignity. The slaughter won’t be, not for another day. Nami still wishes she could run away like they could, but Doflamingo got her on a tight leash made from bloody strings, and she doesn’t feel like showing him how death looks on the face of an ever-living being.

Chapter 7: Seagull's song and the branded witch

23 MAR 1522

     Butchery didn’t even wait for a whole week, and it started with the song of seagulls. One she hadn't heard in four weeks. Their quietness could only mean that they were silenced long before they would dare to get too close to the ship. The dead won’t talk, and neither would the living on the Numancia Flamingo. Doflamingo keeps information close to his chest and her eyes closed to what happens across the seas, away from him. But not this morning. This morning, before the sun even rose, she heard the keowing of news coo, the rustling of papers in their beak. She can hear hope approaching. Oh. No. Not only hope.

 

     “ What an unusual strategy. ”

 

     A ship. Roughed up. Almost torn sails. They must have been pretty desperate to follow some carrier birds in the dumb hope that they would cross paths with pirates weaker than they are. No such luck. If they are smart enough, they will flee at the sight of a Shichibukai’s flag. Hopefully. The spring-loaded fool did temper her expectations a bit. Still-

 

     “ Oh, we’ve got company ? ”

 

     Silken voice, rough arms draped around her shoulders. She doesn’t bother to conceal her frown, lips tugged in a grimace. Doflamingo. He should be sleeping, she made sure of it when she left their bed, escaped his grip on her hips. She should be used to it, still, she flinches when he puts his chin on her shoulder, his breath caressing her neck. 

 

     “ It’s way too early to be dealing with you. ” She chases his touch away like one would chase away a fly. “ I need some coffee before I have to hear you yapping away. 

     - I would hurry if I were you. Coffee doesn't mix well with blood. 

     - Don’t. They are only idiots. ” A small hesitation. “ Hardly worth your time. ”

 

     Her hand on her hips, condemnation in a glare. Briefly, she feels like a mother, scolding a child that won’t listen to a word. And then, she remembers his nose, nuzzled against the nape of her neck, his arm around her shoulder, his body more of a blanket draped around her than any linen sheet. Nope. Definitely not a mother. Disgusting. If she focuses too much on it, she might gag. 

 

     “ There is no money to be made with weak men on the brink of death, ” she pleads, harsher than she needs to be. “ Look at their ship and tell me it seems profitable. 

     - You’re right, I should not waste any time on them. ” Hope. Flimsy hope. So easily crushed between a forceful smile. “ But I'm so bored ! ”

 

     He drapes her with thread, and crosses the sea.

 

He weaves their agony with bloody strings. Their cries melt in one long wail. 

They are only a pile of dead meat. She can’t afford to see them any differently. 

Not when her own knife plunges into their flesh. 

She makes sure to silence the cries of the dead men. 

Still, she is gentler than she’s been in years when she slits their throat. 

 

“ Fuck. ”

 

Searing pain, her arm torn. 

She wishes she got to the carotid of the fool who wrecked her shoulder first. 

That would have been a kinder death than the way Doflamingo’s string dug into the flesh until it chopped bones, until he made a macabre puzzle of him, one that no one will ever be able to piece anymore. 

Eyeballs minced like the bacon she had for dinner last night.

Nami retch.

 

 

     “ You’re getting rusty. Someone this weak shouldn’t have been able to hurt you. ”

 

     She wipes the vomit from the corner of her lips. The taste lingers. She wishes she could go and wash her teeth, right now. Safe in the bathroom. Away from … No. She keeps her eyes steady. Silent. Still. And that’s when she hears it again. The song of the news coo. Almost soothing. The world between their beak, falling to the ship. She wishes she could grab it, but Doflamingo is always faster. Paper crumpled between his gory hands, her indignation drowned in his laugh. His eyes skim over the headlines, eyebrows and corners of his lips slowly rising. One second of inattention is enough for her to reach for the papers, rip them out of his hand ; only long enough to see the big picture sprawled across the page.

 

     A gang of idiots, standing in line. A flaring revolt, burnt flag, bright smiles. She wishes her face wasn’t painted in strokes of sorrow, shock and souvenir painfully blended. Because now there is no word she can utter that will keep him forever from her secrets. But she can still stall. So she chews on her words, keep them between tight lips ; careful to bar them from quivering. 

 

     “ What a funny monkey. First, he comes from nowhere and beats up Croco, and now this ? What kind of dunce just go and face the world government straight on ?  

     - He’s the one who overpowered Crocodile ? ”

 

     Shock is now the main stroke of brush on her face, her mouth hangs slightly open, letting out silent words she won’t allow herself to say. Worlds she can’t quite bring herself to draw in her mind ; where she wouldn’t feel her hair coated in blood, her hands shaking and panic stuck in her throat like her bile. In a shaky breath, she’s back on the Merry, wind in her hair, smile on her lips, lulled by Zoro’s snoring, and the mechanical ticking in Usopp’s workshop. And Luffy, sitting on the ship’s bow, laughter incarnate. His hat on her lap, she’s working her way to repair what’s been torn, like he does with them all. She hears certainty, - stupid, brave certainty-, in his voice when he vows he will become the pirate king. The scoff she addressed him then now finds echoes in the voice of Doflamingo when he sneers at the big, dramatic picture. She hates herself for it.

 

     “ Heard the kid was trying to travel across the Grand Line without a navigator. ” Her head turns to him almost frantically. Doflamingo tears from her mouth the words she wants to keep for herself, and in a breath, makes them real. “ He’ll be dead long before he gets a chance to become a pest. It’s almost a shame. He managed to get the demon of Ohara to follow him. I was curious to see what kind of mayhem he would bring.

     - What a shame, indeed. ”

 

     She might retch again. Zoro, a marionette slashing his friends. Usopp, diced like the poor unfortunate soul who dared harm her. And Luffy, gum stretched until it snaps. The sea will be more merciful than Doflamingo ever will. If Luffy ever catches his interest, she can only hope he’ll be lost to the sea first ; after all, it submits to no one. Not even to kids with the kindest smiles. She will silently carry grief for someone she only ever knew in passing. She can’t let her voice shake. Can’t let her eyes wander to the sea. There is grief that doesn’t have a place to rest. He’ll see it even in the slightest hesitation in her hand when she turns the page. 

 

     So Nami sits, eagerly reading bullshit that she won’t remember by the evening. Pretends to find satisfaction in the smallest victory ; news of the escape of some minor pirates from Baroque works, unimportant chatter about proud marines claiming successes that were assuringly not their own, the twentieth birthday of the Big Mom’s … thirty-third son. Raisin. Raisin. Why does his name feel familiar ? Too young and too far away from East Blue for her to have ever seen him before… Ah. 

 

     “ I remember him. 

     - You do ? ”

 

     Tight smile, dancing fingers on the wood. Doflamingo clearly doesn't.

 

     “ I’m not surprised you didn’t find him as memorable as I did. They announced his birth in the very last newspaper you let me read before you locked me up. ” Red stains his picture. She lets out a strangled cackle, more of a bark than a giggle. “ It’s been twenty years now. 

     - Happy anniversary. You feel like an encore ? 

     - I’ll pass. ”

 

     He laughs, like it’s an old joke of theirs, a fond memory. And there is something vicious, tugging at her heartstrings that she can’t be too bothered to hold back. Her taunting drips like poison between her lips :

 

     “ And if this is your way of celebrating, next time, please bring me some good shampoo to get the brains out of my hair. Or better yet, blow your own and leave me-

     - Young master ? ”

 

     Mh. Baby 5, leaning on the railing of the ship. Tired eyes, tightened apron and a cigarette between her lips. The ruckus must have woken her up. 

 

     “ Sorry Baby 5, ” he waves away her concern. “ We started the fun without you all, it seemed a bit early for a party. ”

 

     The grin he gives her is almost gentle. That’s revolting. And when they cross the sea again, to the Numancia Flamingo, he is fatherly when he pets her head. But Baby 5 isn’t looking at him. No. She is staring at Nami’s arm, jaw clenched on her cigarette.

 

     “ Miss Nami ? Are you okay ? What happened to your arm-

     - She's o- ” 

 

     A stolen glance. Words caught on his throat, his smile falling. His hand, gripping her shoulder. She winces. Fingers digging into her wound. 

 

     “ What the hell is that !

     - I already told you about it. ” She has no allegiance to protect, no lost love for the one who ripped away her chance at a true childhood between his teeth. So she doesn’t lie. Tone flat, she won’t look at him “ I worked with a Fishman a while ago. That's his jolly Roger.

      - You’ve let him brand you. ”

 

     An almost shaky voice, trembling grip and Nami falters. His brows furrowed. Hurt. Why…- Right. Of course he would get butthurt about another man claiming her. Succeeding in what he never managed. Lips between her teeth, chewed up rage. And mockery is slowly becoming her only weapon, his words echoing in her taunting voice.

 

     “ Mind telling me what got you so shaken up ? ” She refuses to wince when his nails dig into the skin, refuses to surrender to his rage. Her own is an ancient beast, it won’t yield to twenty years of his longing. “ You shouldn’t be surprised, I would have done anything to make sure you would never find me again. I would do it again in a heartbeat. ”

 

     This lie tastes like rotten tangerine in her mouth, but the silent fury in his eyes feels for her like the warmth of Belmer’s first smile, of the sun on her face when they left together. And the grin she gives him could almost be sincere.

 

     “ Baby 5. ” Seething hiss. “ Bring her to the ship’s hold. We were too soft on her. ” Her cheeks, squeezed between his gory fingers, hard. Her own blood to bring some color to her face. “ She needs some perspective. ”

 

“ Why did you say that ? ”

 

A tight smile, fishnet thighs. A warning on the corner of her lips, her cigarette on the other. The flame of her lighter dances on her eyes. Pleading, yet, sharp.

 

“ I was tired of his face. At least, I can’t see him here. ”

 

When Baby 5 will put out her lighter, and threads close on her, she won’t see anything at all. And she can’t help but think that it might be better that way. 

 

Notes:

I hope you all liked this chapter, to be honest, I don't feel quite happy with it, because it escalates Doflamingo's abusive behavior earlier than I originally planned. But to be honest, I don't think Doflamingo would react well to see someone he sees as his being branded by another person. Next chapter will be quite heavy because of this. Anyway, have a good week !

Chapter 8: Black eyes, black hair and long forgotten promises

Notes:

I only just now finished my semester's exams, I'm so relieved to have a few chapter prepared, hopefully during the winter's break I'll be able to write a lot more. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy this week's chapter !

Ah, and this is the time to remind you that this fic is tagged with abuse and toxic relationship. I don't think Doflamingo would be gentle with someone if they kept trying to piss him off. That certainly doesn't excuse what he does. I sure hope nobody expects him to be decent, even in fics.

10 APR 1522

     “ Rise and shine ! ”

 

     She doesn’t bother to open her eyes. She’s only a bundle of nerves and hunger these days. She has no words to bark, almost no flesh to tear away anymore. Eighteen days of starvation. Eighteen days of darkness. Eighteen days of silence. It might have been worse than the tower. He draped her in a cocoon, deprived her of any sound, of the lulling of the sea, of laughs, of any footsteps against the wood. She wished she could have heard Baby’s lighter flicking, maybe even Senor Pink’s tugging at his baby’s teat, Jora’s brush against her canva’s or Dellinger’s clicking of his heels. Anything except for his chipper voice, his big hands caressing her sunken cheeks. 

 

     “ I have something fun to show you, today ! I think you slept long enough. ” She opens bloodshot eyes. “ Yikes, maybe not enough. No matter, we have a busy day ahead of us ! ”

 

     She would scratch his face, claw his eyes out, if she could. She would rip out his laugh from his throat between her claws. But he took care to declaw her. He only takes his hands away from her when the cold bite of threads hugs her wrist. She doesn’t resist when she feels him crocheting her a whole new body, muscles made from yarns, pulling a dead weight to walk where she would only fall. The staircase’s steps. The creaking of the door’s clinch. Light. She can feel light, even with her closed eyelids. Warmth on her exposed skin. Little humidity, so little wind. A gentle welcome, that she won’t grace with open eyes. There is nothing she wants to see enough to burn her cornea. And certainly not Doflamingo’s vision of fun. She could swear she heard Jora whisper, worry laced in her voice. She might be still hallucinating. The only thing that feels real is Doflamingo’s hand on her back.

 

     “ You have to eat. ”

 

     Wooden bench under her. The kitchen. Metal in her hand. Cold spoon. Warm food. Soup. He knows not to rush her. Although when her mouth opens up, she still isn’t the one that did it. Threads cover even her teeth. Guiding every movement. She almost retches when she swallows the first spoon. It tastes like his threads. Life force-fed to her behind clenched teeth. His fingers, against her back ; a mockery of soothing hands. She can guess Baby’s small gasps, uncertain immobility. Fists, clutching her apron, the soft rustle of fabric. Sweet kid, lost to a demented leader that coos to her like he would do to a child.

 

     “ Good, you’re doing well. Another one. ”

 

     A second spoon. This time, she vomits. And she certainly doesn't bother to turn away from him when she does. There is regret, somewhere in her smile, a wasted opportunity to behold Doflamingo, covered in puke, an angry scold disfiguring his eternal smile. 

 

     “ Senor Pink, make her eat some more, I’ll be back. ”

 

     He crushes the canvas she’s been painting in her head with his casual tone. She makes no mistakes ; he is furious. Quick pace, heavy steps. The whine of the wooden plank echoes her own. If he manages to keep his cool, it can only mean he found a way to retaliate, way worse than anything she could ever do to him in her sorry state. Slammed door. A silence. The creaking of the bench when Senor Pink comes and sits next to her. Her own nails dancing against the wood. She can’t bear silence anymore. A third spoon. She swallows her bile again. Fourth one. She might cry. Fifth- She bites back a sob.

 

     “ I’m sorry Nami, you need to eat. ”

 

     Uncharacteristically gentleness from Senor Pink. Calloused fingers around her own. There is silence in this stillness, but it doesn’t feel like fading anymore. Baby 5’s hands in her hair, way more maternal than a kid her age has any right to be. A lullaby between closed lips around her cigarette. Eyes closed, she can almost forget that it’s not Belmer, sitting next to her, smoke in her songs. Senor Pink’s voice sounds like wavering hope, tastes like rancid tangerine. 

 

     “ Endure it today, by tomorrow, he will be done taking out his anger on you. ”

 

     A growl, voice hoarse. He will never be done. Not until she yields and does exactly what he wants. And she won’t grant immortality for a bowl of soup.

 

     When he comes back, he smells like soap and eagerness. Rushed shower. Swifter, lighter footstep than usual. Almost a soft tug on his strings, and she can feel herself rise from the wooden bench. No more soup. Only an apple left in her hand. Suffering to take away. 

 

     “ Young master ? ” Baby 5 pleads. 

 

    Her hesitation, her hand in her own, a last hope to hold her back, to hold him back. Monstrosity contained for another day. Laughable hope, maybe, but Nami is still grateful for it anyway. 

 

     “ She didn’t eat much, maybe she should rest more-

     - She’ll eat later, we can’t be late to the show. ”

 

     There is a restlessness settling in her bones, dread crushing her plexus. The soup she ate before did nothing to settle her nerves, nor the longing for tangerines and liberty. The apple in her hand feels unwelcomed. She can’t take a bite out of it. That would be a kind of treason of Belmer. Unfamiliar. He doesn’t care for her musing when he drags her away. Every step that he takes for her, she feels her body move alongside his own. Harmony on his terms. She can feel concrete under her feet, land stripped from its soil. A few steps, blindly guided. A crowd, more and more lively. Are they walking through a busy street ? A fair of some kind ? Hm. No laughs. No running kids. Whispers. Worried. Wary. Doflamingo won’t utter a word, and their silence is soon buried under a cacophony of frantic chatter. 

 

     “ Look. ” Too much joy in his whisper in her ear. “ Nami, I swear, you wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. ” 

 

     There is no real choice for her, she can feel strings creeping on her face. Slowly, she opens her eyes. Groans. The sun burns, scorned lover that she neglected for too long in the dark. She can feel his strings, guiding her head and her gaze almost gently in the right direction. To a familiar high platform.

 

     “ This is history in the making. ”

 

     No. A scaffold. Light shining on halberds. A boy, head down, on his knees before an excited crowd. A crowd of terrified little boys who think themselves heroes for damning a kid. Nervousness. Rage. Fear. Their swords tremble even as they brandish them. Standing between them, a line of admirals. Another one of Shichibukais, who pays her no mind when she is dragged next to them by thick yarn. And Doflamingo, cackling through it all. No. 

 

     “ That’s not history, ” she drawls. A growl. Her voice ; a sound ripped out of her throat from the comfort of quietness. He only laughs. She doesn't. 

 

     History is not made of falling heads. History is not made of people cheering for death, elevated on a ridiculous platform. Some poor sod’s death is a tragedy, at most. She squints, searches for the boy’s face and curses herself when she spots no more than twenty-five years on a soft skin. No life story to be told in deep crevices of wrinkles. Only a few years of liberty. Black hair, black eyes…-

 

     “ It feels like our first date. ” Giddiness. Revolting. If she could close her ears as easily as her eyelids, she would. “ Do you remember ? ”

 

     She shoots him a confused look. So does the vampire swordsman and the snake goddess, more annoyed by his antics than queasy, like she is. His arm around her shoulders. She wishes she could chase him away.

 

     “ You were exactly the same as you were the day we went our separate ways, I couldn’t believe it. It had been, what, ten years ? ” A whisper in her ears. She offers no response. No smile. And certainly no nostalgia. “ Well, I just thought it could be romantic. A full-circle moment. ”

 

      What the hell does he-. A voice covers her bewilderment. A familiar seagull steps up. 

 

     “ Soldiers, you need to understand why this execution is so significant.” 

 

    Sengoku. Bigger than she remembers. Calmer. Some god-like man, about to profess why this man should die. And Nami doesn't listen at first. She doesn’t care for a dead man. Won’t care for the boy. Won’t listen to his life story, for all the reasons that made the marines feel justified in taking his life. It’s all nonsense. Until she hears the name Portgas. D. Rouge. And that name is scratching, clawing at a part of her memory, in the company of dread. Rouge. Portgas. Familiar name. Forgotten face. 

 

     “ … A child was born carrying the most evil blood in the world. ” Booming voice. Chilling memory. “ This child was you. Don't act ignorant. ” 

 

     Black hair. Black eyes. The world waiting for their demise. Her grief, trapped in strings. No. A full-circle moment. History repeating itself. 

 

     “ Your father was the pirate king, Gold Roger. ”

 

     Black hair, black eyes. 

 

     No. No. No. Not again. 

 

     She can’t watch him die. 

 

    " You’re sick. ” Accusation, a dagger in her voice. His black eyes, an abyss of laughter to hide too many secrets. “ But still, you won’t stop with your bullshit. Why ? 

     - Where would be the fun in that ? ”

 

     She takes a large swing of her rum. Annoyance drowned in fiery alcohol, as her groan drowns in the crew’s partying on the deck. 

 

     “ I don’t know about fun, but I know about surviving. You don’t seem eager enough to try. ” A silence, crossed arms. “ You could change the world, with only a bit of time. Are you really about to let yourself wither ? Use me. 

     - Don’t talk about yourself like th-

     - Use me. You could see it all ! You may be the only one who could afford such a favor from me anyway. "  In her eyes, the familiar shine of the perspective of berrys. " I'm not cheap.  ”

 

     He laughs, but laughter ends up in a bloody cough, evidence of his doom. 

 

    “ I don’t need to see it all. You can’t have kids, right ? ” His large hand, on her shoulder. Almost paternal. She could cry. Anger is easier to manage. “ I’d like to have one, one day, and maybe they’ll get to see what I worked to create. Or better yet, they will carve their own path. That would be enough for me. I don’t need your immortality rock. I only need to know that someone would be there to keep an eye on them. ” 

 

     A silent protest on her lips. He won’t listen. 

 

     “ It would be enough to know you’ll be there if they need you. ”

 

     She won’t be there. Couldn’t be for Rosinante. Won’t be for a child who would be damned before he is even conceived. She can only hope he’ll never be foolish enough to leave his legacy to some poor kid. 

 

     - Fine. ” Gritted teeth, averted eyes. “ I promise I would care from afar for your soon fatherless child if you were ever stupid enough to bring them to the world.

     - Thank you, Nami. ”

 

    Pleading eyes. Quivering lips. Shaky hands. This time, she hides nothing when she turns to Doflamingo, grabs the sleeve of his coat, and whispers between clenched teeth : 

 

     “ Please. ” She knows before he even answers. He won’t risk his title for her little whims. But when he only smiles at her, she can only keep going in a litany of muddled words. “ Please. Please. Doflamingo, I’ll do anything… ”

 

     His hand in her hair. Parody of tenderness. Mockery of compassion. Sick pleasure hiding behind rose-tinted glasses. She bites back a sob, nausea coating her tongue again.

 

     “ Now, now, Nami, you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. Not again. ” Her grip on his arm, despair in her throat. “ Aren’t you glad you can be here for the very last moment of his son like you were for him ? ”

 

Notes:

I mentioned Nami's relationship to Roger a few times in the story already. To be honest, this wasn't a part of the original plot, but as I wrote it, it kinda made sense that Nami would know some pretty interesting people after living as long as she did. It wasn't supposed to be as important as it ended up being. I because of that I had to change how I would write next chapter, and I gotta say, it's made my life a whole lot harder ! Anyway, see you next week, on friday or saturday ! :)

Chapter 9: Son, when you'll get old

Notes:

I don't often write action oriented scenes, so this chapter was quite challenging for me, I hope you will enjoy it ! Good reading !

10 APR 1522

     Marine Ford is a mess of confused shrieking, unbecoming of the war they just started. There is no way that Whitebeard would allow one of his adopted sons to die for a father he never knew. So she stares, looking in the horizon for someone, anyone carrying Whitebeard’s tattoo. And then, she sees it. The sea, twirling. A beast emerging from the water. And the smallest instant, Nami feels relief when she sees the huge Moby Dick. Whitebeard. The father of the sea surrounded by the family he created. The world bends between his fist, and she hears the kid cry out for the father who stepped up when Roger couldn’t rise from the dead. 

 

     “ It’s been awhile, Sengoku. ” His voice, stirring ancient and hazy memories. “ And my precious son ? I sure hope he’s fine. Don’t move Ace, we’re coming for you ! ”

 

     Red and white coat floating in the wind as he raises hell. They drown in the darkness of a tsunami, in fear and cries. She wishes she could help. Wishes she could run. But Doflamingo keeps her close to him. When Aokiji transforms their doom into ice, she doesn’t smile, doesn’t celebrate. It’s only postponing butchery. Mihawk’s sword, Kizaru’s lighting ; it’s beasts fighting. And Nami shouldn’t be here. She needs to get out of here. So Nami fiddles with Doflamingo’s string, unweaving them patiently, gaining her liberty a thread at a time. She has to. She has no sword, no gun, no dagger. Only her stone, resting against her ribcage ; a shield that doesn’t care much about how hurt she gets, as long as she’s still alive. And she doesn’t expect Doflamingo to protect her. Not when Oz junior joins the battle, not when there is so much fun to be had. 

 

     “ Whitebeard has a son of Oz ? His corpse is mine ! ”

 

    Moria. Revolting puppet. She shares a disgusted look with the Empress of Amazon Lily, and for a moment, Nami wonders if she found someone reasonable. Until she turns hundreds of men into stone, pirates and marines alike and gets away with it with a pout. 

 

     She needs to get out of here. Her arms are free. Weak. Feeble even. But when Doflamingo uses his string to cut Oz Junior’s leg, her own cage gets weaker. She has to thank the fall of a giant for her own liberty. And Moria’s monstrosity. Her torso is now free. And if Doflamingo realizes it, he is way too engrossed in the battle to make sure he keeps control of every last of her movements. She can hear him laugh, taste carnage on his tongue. 

 

     “ Kids who have never known peace and kids who have never known war don’t share the same values. Those who live impose their own vision of the world, that’s it ! And here, at the top, justice will win. Of course. The winner will define the meaning of justice ! ”

 

     He somehow got worse in the twenty years they have been apart. Her legs are free. She wastes no time to steal from a corpse. Somewhere, close to the carcass of the giant, a dagger. She dodge a reckless sword of a confused marine, and as she’s getting ready to grab it, she hears something like destiny falling from the sky. A cry, life breathing on top of a marine’s ship. 

 

     “ ACE ! ”

 

    A monkey, straight from a memory, shouting at the top of his lungs, before waltzing with massacre. Rubber against the legends of the marines. She expects him to be ripped to shreds before he can even stand close to Hina. But the monkey is as she remembers him, he is still punching through life itself, without caring about anyone that might be looking. Fighting against death with Moria doesn’t stop him, neither does Kizaru’s commandment. And he keeps going, again and again, ignoring the blood flowing from his arms, his shortness of breath, the tide of men preparing to drown him. She can’t watch him die. The fool who kept fighting for others. 

 

     “ Fucking idiot, ” she groans.

 

     She steals a gun from a fallen soldier. And then she joins these fools, trading some lives for his. She won’t look too long at the faces of the men she drives her dagger into. They will live. Hopefully. She can see the monkey from here. And hope soars in her chest, still fragile, but oh so fierce when she roars : 

 

     “ Oi, Straw hat ! I need the key to his handcuff !

     - Nami ? ” 

 

     Recognition. A grin. It was stupid to expect anything less from him. 

 

     “ Sure ! ”

 

     Dumb, blind, trusting fool. She is not a mere memory for him, no forgotten spirit from the past. But a friend that he never stopped trusting. He throws a set of keys at her, keeps another one made by a weird wax man. And, briefly, she smiles at him too, before running off. To the scaffold. Nami doesn’t usually fight. Won’t wield an ax, nor a sword. But she does know how to run, how to make herself scarce, a flash of red hair in the middle of a bloodied field. She passes by the vice-admirals without them blinking an eye, way too busy handling a loud monkey and his army of misfits. Her legs almost give way under her, but still, she runs, bloodied lips between clenched teeth.

 

     Standing at the foot of the scaffold, she feels like history gave her a second chance.

 

     Now, she will be visible, a red target for anyone to see. With her right foot, she removes her shoes. Left. Right. She’s barefoot. Barehanded. Daggers and guns won’t be any help at this point. Ripped shirt, shoved in her mouth, to bite into. And then, she climbs. Feet agile, gripping the wooden structure, like her nails, ignoring shards, biting into her hands. She suddenly regrets her apple, barely eaten. 

 

     “ What the fuck is that. ” A cry, from a random guy. She wishes he could have kept his mouth shut. “ Someone is climbing the scaffold ! ”

 

     She can feel eyes on her, but she won’t look, won’t let herself be distracted by looming danger. And even when she can see a ray, illuminating her features, she might shake, but she won’t stop. The laser is getting bigger and bigger, and she tightens her hold on the structure of the scaffold. She won’t let go. Won’t-

 

     “ No you don’t ! ” 

 

     A punch, gigantic, and the ray ends up shooting another pillar. She can hear a body hitting the floor. The monkey against Kizaru. The kind of fight that could make the whole scaffold fall. He brushes it off with a laugh.

 

     “ Sorry, Nami ! ”

 

     Fucking dumbass. Wood splinters in her feet. Shaking structure. She has to go faster. Before it all falls down. Before-

 

     “ Fuck. ”

 

     A searing pain in her ribs. Ammunition, raining on her. Torn flesh. Thighs devoured by the bites of bullets. She sobs, snot raining on her face as does blood along her legs. But they didn’t get her hands, nor her feet. So Nami keeps going, until her hands grab into the platform. A scream is ripped out of her throat when Akainu steps on her fingers, hopes stomped on by his boots. Hand stuck, pinned cruelly beneath his weight, but still, she won’t let go. She is no prisoner. No damsel in distress. Every muscle in her body screams as she clings there, suspended by one hand, her legs dangling precariously. She is trusting in cruelty to keep her suspended by a crushed hand under his boot. Akainu presses down harder, trying to crush her fingers, but her mind races.

 

     With a snarl, she twists her wrist and grabs his ankle. Her legs kick out, searching for leverage, and find it in the scaffold’s frame. She braces herself, pain burning through her trapped fingers. Then, with a sudden burst of strength, she throws her hips sideways, using the scaffold’s bar as a pivot. Her entire body twists beneath her, swinging out wide like a pendulum. His boot stays firm. 

 

     That doesn’t matter. She isn’t aiming for freedom—she’s aiming for him.

 

     In one fluid motion, she whips her legs upward, the momentum dragging her entire body along, her hand still crushed under his boot. Her body twists, her trapped arm keeping her steady, as her feet snap through the air. Legs cut through the air like a scythe; her boots smash into his jaw with a brutal crack. The surprise helps her—enough to send him stumbling and falling, unharmed but grumbling. And Nami lands, crouched, on the edge of the scaffold, golden life pulsating through her veins, eyes of amber fixed on the scrawny kid that didn’t ask for an idiot as a father. And as she stands, right in front of Sengoku, she can see in his eyes that he is trying to place her. To assign a name to a forgotten face. 

 

     “ Who are you ? ” Echoes, Sengoku and Ace in the same voice. She won’t answer.

 

     An instant is all she needs. She falls to her knees, hugs the kid, and won’t let go. Not when Akainu kicks her. Not when Sengoku grabs her shoulder. She’s clawing at his skin, mumbling a litany of apologies when the boy winces. She’s doing what she always did best ; she works at his liberty, keys gripped between her fingers. And when she hears the characteristic clicking, she smiles, and drags him, falling off the scaffold, a smile on her lips. Her whispers in his ear drown Akainu and Sengoku’s shout. 

 

     “ Hold on tight, don’t let go. ”

 

     They are shooting stars in the middle of the day. Amber light falling to the ground, to their demise. But she trusts the life pulsating through her. She focuses on his heartbeat, quick, panicked, erratic. And as they fall, she coats his heart with amber energy, flowing between them, shared breath, shared life. Terrified eyes, facing her own. He can feel something has changed. And when they hit the ground, there are no broken bones, no more torn skin, no blood on their smile. Black hair. Black eyes. Big grin, but a confused one. She can’t help but ruffle his hair, almost gently in the mist of massacre. And then, finally, she lets go of him. Shaky hands, teary eyes. 

 

     “ Son, when you get old, I hope your heart is light enough for you to float. ” A father’s words he never got to tell. His gruff voice echoes in her own. An old song told in a shaky breath in the kid’s ear, and some words that she hopes the monkey won’t hear. “ Please, don’t let him die today, not after everything he did. ”

 

     She turns to the monkey, running to them, and bites back a smile. He is still far enough away. She won’t stay. Won’t face him. Maybe something would break in her if she were to ask for his help. Clenched teeth, another life kept in words she chews on but won’t let out. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Doflamingo, swinging to them on bloody strings. So Nami gently pushes the kid to the strawhat. 

 

     “ Run, boys. Run. Please. ”

 

     She watches the kid smile at her, almost hesitant, and rush off to Luffy. Watches him take him away, away from Doflamingo. Away from butchery. She is in no state to see Whitebeard falling to the attacks of an ally. She only sees a fluffy coat of pink feathers, reddened by massacre. Only hears his snarl when he admonishes her : 

 

     “ Ah, guess I can’t keep your eyes off you, ever, or you’ll be naughty. ”

 

     Another day, she would have protested against huge hands running along her back, lifting her up above the ground, stuck to his chest. But there is peace in her droopy eyelids and pulsating stone against her plexus. 

 

     “ You won’t take the kid down. He won’t die today.

     - What did you do ? ”

 

     She tastes Doflamingo’s clenched teeth like candy. And when she hears a horrifying guttural scream, she locks eyes with the kid. A silent promise behind amber orbs. She can smell burned flesh, can see the hole Akainu dug into his chest, but still she can feel life fighting to keep running its course. And when the skin closes again, organs take form anew, she only offers him a bloody smile. The most sincere she offered in weeks. And the answer she gives Doflamingo is only a peaceful murmur.

 

     “ I wouldn’t offer him immortality. He wouldn’t want that. But I could always breathe a few days of eternity into him. 

     - You know how useless your little tricks are, right ? He might not die today, but he won't live long anyway. ” Stubborn silence. “ It's time you understand, the weak won't get to choose how or when they die. “

 

     She only stares at him, lips drawn into a fine line. His smile drops, only for a brief moment as he is leaving the massacre behind, his back turned on her, but threads laced around her legs. 

 

     “ Let's pay Rosinante a visit. Maybe he'll finally get it through your skull. ”

 

Notes:

The next chapter will mark the end of the first of the three act of Unwoven eternity (plus a flashback intermission chapter). I feel like the writing process is- mostly- smooth so I think I'll be able to keep posting once a week. I'm really happy to see that people still follow this story every week, thank you so much ! I can't wait to share the second part of the story, I have a lot of fun writing this !

See you on next Friday or Saturday, as usual !

Chapter 10: Frozen lullaby

Notes:

Happy holidays everyone ! Hope everyone is taking some time to rest or to have fun. I'm going through a rough patch in term of writing, so thankfully I still have a few chapters in stock before I need to go back to writing one chapter weekly. Hope you'll like this chapter, good reading !

17 APR 1522

     Cold bites her skin, unforgiving, and she winces. She should feel grateful that the wind buries Doflamingo’s taunting, and that layers of clothing bury his touch against her back all the same. But she can’t ignore the chill that’s eating away at her spine. Snow in her shoes, she has been walking for so long, her legs almost give up under her. There is nothing for Rosinante to do here. He was certainly not fit to live in a secret lab, hidden under the snow. No people. No resources. No house. No cabin. No tree. Only whiteness. And they climb, higher and higher, where the wind gets colder and colder.

 

     Until they stop, in the middle of nowhere. White. Only white. And a small cross, at their feet.

 

    “ Please, ” dread, creeping on her skin, like the freeze biting on her face. “ I beg of you, tell me you didn’t bury his body here-

     - I did. A traitor deserves no funeral. Still, I offered a coffin, and a cross. I guess I’m still quite sentimental about my brother. ”

 

     There is the phantom of horror in the whisper she lets the winds carry to Doflamingo.

 

     “ How long ago ? 

     - Huh ? ”

 

    He only looks at her for a split second when she doesn’t repeat herself. She is a trembling mess, of chattering teeth, shaky hands and ragged breathing. 

 

     “ My point is that you might try to save some poor unfortunate souls : weak men don’t choose how they die. Their end will still be as pitiful as their life has been. You might save Roger's kid, still, they'll get to him sooner or later. You might have fed a starving child, still, he died alone in the snow, trying to do something bigger than him. ”

 

     She turns to him, lips blue, but eyes burning with an inextinguishable fire when she grabs his collar, and pulls him down to her. Mirth against rage. 

 

     “ How long ago !

     - Something like ten years. ” She draws a sharp breath. “ Why are you so fired up ? ”

 

     She lets go of him, with a low, disgusted hiss. He might expect her to growl, to argue, to yap away her frustration and indignation. Instead, she falls to her knees, and digs. Clawing at snow, fingertips frozen. Ten years. 120 months. 3650 days. She remembers how that feels. Years of her lungs collapsing on themselves, that desperate quest for a breath. Fire in her veins. Cold on her skin. Ten years of that. He was still a kid, the last time she saw him. He didn’t age a day past thirty. He-

 

     “ What the hell are you doing ? ” 

 

     Doflamingo stares at her, crossed arms, furrowed eyebrows, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. A sneer, his voice sharpening. 

 

     “ You can’t revive him, he’s been long dead.

     - You can’t let him here ! 

     - I can, and I will. ” Strings around her torso, dragging her up. Still she claws at them, hissing insults between blue lips. He ignores it all. “ This is the place where he pointed a gun at me, this is the place where he will rot ! ”

 

     Rot. No. He won’t. Can he- ? No. 

 

     “ Rosinante is alive. 

     - I killed him myself, I can assure you, he is not. 

     - He’s not dead,” she shoots back, her voice breaking.

 

     A laugh is on the corner of his lips, until the idea takes form in his mind. Until he can see what she sees. The unspoken truth hung heavy between them. A man is breathing under all that snow, and has been for years.

 

     “ Why- I. ” That might be the first time she hears him stammering. Confusion and rage blending in furrowed brows and clenched teeth. “ I asked hundreds of times, I- ”

 

     Broken laugh, his hands digging in the flesh of her shoulders. She won’t wince. Won’t leave. Not without him. The kid who tried to make things right. And when the one who wrecked everything takes a shaky breath, hands itching to lacerate her, she doesn’t shy away from him. She owes that at least to Rosinante. 

 

     “ You’d sooner make him immortal and curse him with this-” he gestures toward the snow-buried grave, “-than grant me what I’ve begged for.

     - He was not supposed to die ! ”

 

     Her voice raw and desperate, breaking against the desolate cold. Her hands, clawing at his arms. She twists against him, a snake of rage, the horror fueling her strength. She wrenches free, stumbling forward, burrows down, fingers numb and burning with cold as she scraps against the ice and snow, digging until her hands no longer feel like her own. Finally, she hits something solid. Wood. Shaky breath, shaky hands. She grips the lid of the coffin, her breath shuddering as she pries it open, and gasps at the sight within. 

 

     “ Rosinante… ” 

 

    Rosinante’s face is still and colorless, frostbite blended with the pallor of death, clinging to his lashes like dust. No breath between chapped lips. No. That can’t happen. A small sob escapes her as she clambers into the coffin beside him, reaching to cradle his face, her fingers trembling against the freezing touch of his skin. Doflamingo’s shadow fall over her, his rage palpable, the bitterness lacing his smile, his voice cutting through the still air. 

 

     “ Whatever you did back then, it’s obvious it didn’t work. How unfortunate. ”

 

     Nami barely hears him as she holds Rosinante close, pressing her cheek to his skin.  Warmth mingling with his unyielding cold ; the only solace she can offer. 

 

     “ I’m so sorry, ” she whispers, her words a broken confession for the boy who tried, fingers gently brushing over the frostbitten edges of his face. “ I never wanted this for you … ”

 

     A pulse. A pulse ! Slow. Gentle breath. Tender hands, numb smiles. Her fingers in his hair, a memory in her voice when she sings, in a low voice, a lullaby that she thought forgotten.

 

     “ I’ll sing you into sleep, ” Her voice covers the first panicked breath intake. “ You prayed your soul I’d keep. ” Her eyes on him, the first thing she allows him to take in. “ The future’s past defied. ” Her hand in his hair. “ I am the lullaby. ” His head buried in her shoulders. “ Was gone these ten years past. And when that man came back … these haunted, hollow eyes … he sang the lullaby. ”  Her grip tightens around him. But she is no longer looking at the sobbing man in her arms. “ You’ll pay for what you reap … when I come calling … ” His smile, mocking her, mocking their touching little reunion. “ I am the storm, the eye … ” Enraged hiss contained in a shaky voice. “ I am the lullaby. ”

Notes:

I teased Rosinante in the summary, and he's finally here. In the the first version of the story, he was supposed to arrive later in the story, but I don't think Doflamingo would miss on an opportunity to try and crush her spirit, especially after failing with Ace's execution. I'm curious to see what you think of Rosinante. You'll have to be a little more patient though. Next chapter will be a memory intermission, and then we'll really start the second act of the story, in Dressrosa !

Chapter 11: Memory intermission

Notes:

Happy new year to everyone !

I usually write while listening to music. I didn't post the link to the playlist because that would imply some spoilers for you, but if anyone's curious, the song that Nami sings to Rosinante in this chapter and the previous one is Bullet's Lullaby, by Port Sulphur Band.

15 FEB 1493

     One step, in the dark. Another. The wood creaks under her feet and she swears in a low hiss when someone strikes a match. Low light on young features. Huh. Kids. 

 

     “ I was curious when I heard that some Tenryūbito joined us, ordinary peasants, down there. Kinda expected you to be stupidly rich.

     - Don’t you dare address us that way ! ” 

 

     Blond hair, sunglasses on his nose, wrinkled with outrage. No older than ten. Gun in his hand. Even with the flame dancing on his face, he fails to be as intimidating as he wishes to be. 

 

     “ State your name, thief !

     - If I were here to rob you, I’d be disappointed. No gold, no coin… not even meat. ”

 

     Oh they wear rich linen alright. Fancy collar. Good shoes. But, it’s now all tattered. The run-down cabin where they found solace is no manor. No light. Only one big mattress, way dirtier than their kitchen probably ever was. Crumbs between crumpled sheets. Skinny kids. Hungry. She groans, and searches for her bag. Bread. Some fruits. That will have to do. 

 

     “ Starving is not a fun way to go. Eat up. ” She throws an apple at the kids. A brief hesitation. Damn her bleeding heart. “ If you ever find yourself fancying a diner with more than stale bread, go south, to the forest. Watch for the crooked trees, follow them till you find a home wrapped in moss. Got that ? ”

 

     She smiles at the smallest one, blond hair in front of his eyes. Shy nod, shaky hands. As she leaves, she can’t help but groan. She will have to steal some villagers again. She needs some new shoes ; the forest is no walk in the park. What a shame these Tenryūbito are down on their luck. 

 

 

23 FEB 1493

     “ I expected you earlier than this. ” At the edge of the forest, a kid, alone, hiding behind a tree. “ And I didn’t expect you to come alone. Where is your brother ? ”

 

     A basket full of fruits resting on her hips, it only takes her a few seconds to realize what got the kid staring at her so intently. 

 

     “ You can have one if you want. Come, I don’t bite. Or maybe I do ? ” She offers a toothy grin, and the kid smiles back at her, shyly. “ My name is Nami, what’s yours, kid ? 

     - Rosinante. ”

 

     Weak voice, skinny arms, grabby hands. This child didn’t eat much since last time. 

 

     “ That’s a cute name you got there. ” She ruffles his hair when he gets close enough, and hands him an apple. “ Here. Take this one, it’s ripe. ”

 

     She doesn't get a lot out of him. Shy. Still, eager. And when she lets him go, she offers a bag full of fruits, bread, and some fish she caught recently. She almost tears up parting with it. Hunger has been her companion since the villagers started trading stories about the young witch that once captured the heart of the elder of the village, some fifty years ago. She can't show up there anymore. And she might not be as adept with the fishing rod as she would like. No matter, the smile of the kid is enough to deal with a few foodless days. 

 

27 APR 1493

     Next time she sees the blond kid emerge from the forest, there is a hungry man and an angry kid following his step. They come once. Twice. Thrice. And soon, it’s been two months of weekly dinners in the forest. She smiles at them all the same, prepares dinner, part with some rabbit she hunted, and tries not to clench her teeth too hard when the bratty kid takes everything she freely offers for granted. 

 

     “ Your cooking sucks ! 

     - So do your manners ! ” 

 

     He never listens, goes and plays in the garden, leaving her to face a man who carries the weight of his past privilege. Honing is a sweet man, but a helpless one. 

 

     “ It’s too late to regret, you know that, right ? ” He turns to her, with those pleading eyes she can’t ignore. “ You made a decision, you have to learn to live with it. 

     - Why help us ? Don’t you resent us ?

     - I mean, yes. ” A brief hesitation. Tight smile, fleeting eyes. “ But that’s a cross for you to bear, not for your kids. People won’t forget what Tenryūbitos did for centuries only because you claim to be different. You need to be strong enough and kind enough to protect them. ” She lets a stunned silence hang between them, and manufactures a smile. “ And don’t worry, you’ll pay me back- with hefty interest - when you’re obscenely rich again. ”

 

     They will never be able to pay her back. It doesn't matter much. And as she watches the one with sunglasses glower at his brother, she furrows her brows, and whispers.

 

     “ Might want to be careful with this one. He needs to learn that people don’t exist to serve him. Or everyone will know what he used to be. He’ll grow kinder, or he’ll end up dead. ”

 3 MAY 1493

     When a familiar face shows up at her door, she doesn't worry. Not until she sees his face covered in snot, bruises and tears. Not until she hears words, minced between sobs. Found us. Father. Dead. Brother. 

 

    “ Rosi, Rosi … Rosi. breathe for me, please. ” Bloodied shirt, bloodied hands clenched around her apron. “ One, two. Exhale. Good. Tell me what happened. Come. ” 

 

    She guides him inside, lets him sit on the sofa, drapes him in a blanket, warm spring be damned ; his trembling hands need warmth. 

 

     “ You are safe here. I promise. ” 

 

     She offers small comforts. Chocolate to sweeten pain. Her hand in his back, coaxing words out of him.

 

     “ My brother … he … ”

 

     A sob. These are words we will never be able to get fully out. Quivering lips. Unsteady breathing. So she tries to get them out for him.

 

     “ Is he safe ? ” A nod. " Would you like me to go fetch him ? "

 

     Panicked, fiery breath. 

 

     " No. "

 

    She furrows her brows and whispers :

 

     “ Is your father safe ? ”

 

     Another sob. No. There is a tale here that she can only guess at. A tale made of anger and hunger. A familiar one. She doesn’t care to undercover every part of the story. Not while the sweet Rosinante is on the brink of breaking in her arms.

 

      “ Would you like to stay with me for a while ? ”

 

     When he nods again, she makes a home for him in her sheets, wraps him in blankets, and sings, as long as he needs so that his sobs quieten. There is a monster outside, somewhere, one she has to protect Rosinante from. 

 

     “ My friend, just close your eyes, and I’ll be by your side. " Gentle hands caressing his hair. Half closed eyes, still red. " Though shots puncture the night … The bullet’s lullaby … Come sing the lullaby. ”

 

     The monster will end up dead.

11 NOV 1493

     He is growing weaker. Smaller. The sea did nothing for his pale face, his fearful nature. And Nami knows she is no mother. So she sits in a marine’s office, in a worn chair, Rosinante bundled against her chest, his face pressed close to her shoulder. She has been following him for the past few days. Good reputation. Strong. Influent. The kind of power that could fend off the monster. She may have tried to reach out for Garp if the rumors didn't say he was estranged with his son. Can't risk letting Rosinante with a brute.

 

     The faint click of keys echoes as she waits, holding her breath at each passing sound. A man finally steps in, his eyes narrowing slightly at the unfamiliar woman seated in his office. He looms in the doorway, arms crossed, a quiet challenge in his calm tone as he eyes the intruders in his office.

 

     “ Who are you, and how did you get here ?

     - That doesn't matter as much as you would think. ” 

 

     Defiance, forged in routine. He is almost ready to attack. She only offers a small smile. 

 

     “ I came for him. He… just lost his father. And his mother has been dead for a while now. ” When he doesn't flinch, she adds. “ He lost his father to his brother’s hands.

     - Oh. “

 

      Stunned silence. They are making progress. 

 

     “ That’s unfortunate. 

     - It is.

     - Why are you telling me that ? A marine base is no place for a child. ”

 

     Rosi, small, clumsy Rosi. In the middle of soldiers. Her grip tightens on the kid, only for a moment before she takes a deep breath. 

 

     " I’m no mother. Believe me, I tried. ” Shaky breath. Shaky hands, threading softly through his hair. “ I’m not right for him. Rosi deserves better. I need someone strong, to keep him safe. Someone nice, to teach him not to steal, not to kill-

     - That’s pretty low standards. ”

 

     She growls, eyes fiercely on a legend of the marines, sleepy child on her laps.

 

     “ Safe is not a low standard. ” She chokes on her words. Her breath catches, a raw hitch she barely controls. “ Safe is better than anything I could offer him. Do you understand ? ”

 

     She kisses his cheek, whispers in his ear, and almost coo at the boy. When he wakes up, Sengoku expects cries, confusion. Not the gentle way with which the kid looks at him and asks : 

 

     “ Is this -

    - Yes Rosi, that’s Sengoku. He’ll keep you safe. ” She offers her pinky and a smile that poorly hides her tearful eyes. Still she whispers. “ I promise. ”

 

Notes:

I know Nami is comfortable with kids in canon, she is here too, but I do think that caring for a kid for an afternoon every once in a while and being a mother are two different things. Especially since Nami had to be on the move pretty regularly so that no one would notice her not aging.

As you can see, Rosinante was way more memorable than Doflamingo was for her at first. They barely interacted at the time. To be honest, I was kinda uncomfortable with them being too close when he was young, and how that could impact their dynamic. I only needed a reason to have Doflamingo suspect Nami's immortality in a way that wouldn't have Nami understanding that he knew immediatly.

Anyway, enough chatter from me, I hope you liked this week's chapter, and I'll see you next week !

Chapter 12: The great vanishing act

Notes:

Hello ! Hope you're all doing well, I'm personally really happy that we're entering the Dressrosa's part of the story ! Hope you'll like reading it as much as I had fun writing it.

2 MAY 1522

     Dancing lights, cushioned chair. Under her feet, there is now longer the lull of the sea. No waves to be heard. They all tried to coax the truth out of her, and when she wouldn’t give them that, they had settled for a conversation. Any kind. Baby 5’s idle chatter, flattering herself, thinking herself a savior. Jora’s cackling rant about art and beauty. Diamante’s boasting. And Senor Pink's silent companionship. Most days, he would sit with her, and wait. But Nami’s tongue is coated with guilt and devotion. She hasn’t spoken in weeks. Not when Rosinante rested behind closed doors, woven in threads she couldn’t get past. Still, day and night, she sat next to them, and listened to the sound of his breathing, slow, far from the heavy pants of the first weeks, her amber stone humming against her chest, energy gently flowing. Nami became the humming haunting the ship. Until she woke up here. 

 

     “ Nami, eat. ” His voice. Grating. Irritating. “ Your soup is getting cold. ”

 

     Silver spoon, revolting soup. She can't stomach any of it. Not from him. Not yet. She doesn’t remember walking to this decadent dining room. Can’t say for sure she is the one that did. She wouldn’t have left Rosinante to the silence. Her first words should be for him, for the kid she had failed. Mouth shut, on the ship, there was comfort in her silence, certainty she would hear Rosinante call for her as soon as he was able. Here, she has no idea if she could hear him, even if he were to shout at the top of his lungs. This bastard took that from her. Like he took Roger’s last moments for himself. Still. Rosi is fine. He will be ok. The stone will protect him. Like she should have done. 

 

     “ Come on ! ” Laugh in his voice, mirth behind pink glasses. “ Are you still upset about Rosinante ? You know full well he needs his rest, we can’t have you pestering him all day. ” Curses kept behind gritted teeth. “ Can’t be easy living with three bullets in the torso. 

     - You did this to him, ” she spits, spoon clinking on the marble table. 

 

     Victory. Plastered all over his face. Shit. Doflamingo’s eyes gleam with barely restrained glee as he leans closer, fingers drumming rhythmically on the table. 

 

     “ I was beginning to think your tongue froze on Minion Island. ”

 

     She grips the edge of the table, nails digging into the polished surface. She knows she shouldn't give him the satisfaction, but every beat of his smug grin drives another nail into her self-control. The door swing open, and a brunette woman with careful, cautious steps enters, takes the seat beside him. She won’t look at them. Fleeting eyes. Almost something guarded, fearful in her presence. She is no fighter. Graceful, slow, … deliberate. Brown, inquisitive eyes. The kind that almost seems to see it all. 

 

     “ Ah, Viola, as punctual as ever !  ” Doflamingo greets her, voice smooth yet glacial, before turning to Nami again. “ I thought you would feel more comfortable with a girly chat, Nami, it’s been a while since we had one, wouldn’t you say ? 

     - You’re not-

     - Rosinante well-being relies on just how nice and chatty you’ll get, understood ? ”

 

     Her fist clenches around her spoon. For an instant, she fantasizes about plunging it in his eye socket. If she were to tear it apart with the cutlery, at least he wouldn’t stare at her like that anymore. No taunting glances, no knowing smile. There is no harmless information in Doflamingo’s hands. Gaze steady, she faces rosy glasses with a frown and gently drops her spoon instead.

 

     “ What do you want to know ? 

     - It’s simple Nami, I want to know it all. ” She groans. “ Don’t be so sour, I’ll start gently. See, there is something that’s been irking me. ” He leans forward, fingers tapping on the table in a slow rhythm. “ How the hell did you run away from me ? ”

 

     Nami’s been spinning lies since the dawn of time. Still, Doflamingo knows how to unweave them. She needs to feed him a reasonable doubt, nourishes it. 

 

     “ You didn’t think threads would stop me, did you ? ” She shrugs lightly. Gleaning cold eyes, taunting smile. She learned from the worst. “ You sure trust your devil fruit, huh ? Enough to travel across the North Blue, and still expect threads to hold in Spider Miles. ” Here. The smallest doubt. With a grin, she nurtures it. “ That was your mistake. ”

 

     A barely noticeable shake Violet’s head, almost a reflex. Nami furrows her brows. Strange. Still, defeat holds no place in her bluff. 

 

     “ I only had to slip out when you were farther away enough, ” she murmurs, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “ It wasn’t nearly as hard as you’d think. ”

 

     Another nod from the brunette, more decisive this time. Doflamingo’s attention shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction and his grin growing sharper. Shit.

 

     “ You can do better than that. ” Silky taunting, his smile rests under a large hand. “ No one just “slips out” of my birdcage, Nami. I had Pica and Senor Pink try to sneak into your chambers and report back to me. You know I wouldn’t have played with your safety. Try again. ”

 

     His voice is almost tender, but still, his smirk betrays it all. She lets herself settle into the memory, picking it apart in pieces, weaving fragments of truth with deceit.

 

     “ I knew you would never let me out, ” she drawls, tone almost casual, but eyes riveted on Viola. “ So, I just … chose to disappear entirely.

     - Disappeared, hm ? And I’m supposed to believe you just… vanished ? ” 

 

     Despite his smile ; unimpressed eyes roam over her, a flicker of irritation. Good. Huh ? The brunette and Doflamingo exchange a look. No, not exactly. He is searching for something on her face. Confirmation. The smallest nod. The air feels thick, suffocating. When the brunette lightly shrugs, the smallest hint of confusion between her brows, he turns to her, disbelief plainly written on his face. 

 

     “  How ?

     - I’m immortal, Doflamingo. ” She leans forward, her voice low and sharp. “ I don’t need an escape plan. I’m something you can’t contain. ”

 

     Her teeth ache from how tightly her jaw is clenched. She forces a thin, mocking smile onto her face, but her nails dig into her palms so hard it feels as though they might draw blood.

 

     But then, a flicker—Viola’s response, so light, almost nothing. A tiny shake of her head, curt, but precise. Condemnation in the gentlest gesture. Doflamingo catches it too ; he turns, one brow arched in interest, a subtle command to continue and she feels lightheaded. Viola can see something. Something intimate, fragments of truth, shards that will bleed her out. Spider’s fang behind red lips. Nami exists behind veils, shades of half truths. This woman is ripping through it all behind dark lashes. She can see her. Raw panic settles into her bone, the unfamiliar dread of being known, of someone prying open her defenses with only a look. More invasive than the threads that had held her, more dangerous than the bars of any cage. 

 

     “ No more games. ” Doflamingo’s voice slices through her thoughts, his tone smooth but edged with coldness. “ How did you actually get out?”

 

     For once, silence feels as damning as clumsy lies. Viola’s piercing gaze undercovers it all. Nothing can save her from these eyes that see it all… So when instinct overpowers reason, she lurches forward, slamming her head into Viola’s in one quick motion, and she can’t quite tell who is the most surprised of the three of them. A gasp, as Viola stumbles back, her body falling limply on her chair. And Nami bares her teeth, more of a snarl than a grin. Blood runs down her face as she meets Doflamingo’s eyes, her voice calm and unwavering as his strings drape around her, settling her on her chair once more.

 

     “ I told you, I can’t be contained. ”

 

     “ You really have to stop provoking him. ”

 

     She hums, as Senor lightly brushes hair out of her forehead, coated in blood. A father's touch, gentler than they're both used to. 

 

     “ He is trying, you know. A real man like him might not feel comfortable saying it, but he suffered a great loss when you left last time. He's only scared that you might run again. ”

 

     Gritted teeth, armor made of the soaring rage inside of her chest. 

 

     “ Scared ? ” A disbelieving scoff, she almost chokes on it. “ The only thing that scares Doflamingo is losing control. Of me, of you, of anything ! ”

 

     His mouth around his pacifier, shock made into some undignified suckling sound. She doesn't stop. 

 

     “ Come on, you know full well he doesn't care about any of you. 

     - You're wrong. 

     - Am I ? ” Raised eyebrows, barred teeth. “ He only cares as long as he keeps total control over you. Hell, the guy tried to kill his own brother. If you displease him, he’ll do the same to you without flinching ! He would keep you all deprived of any contact with people outside of the Family if he could get away with it ! ” 

 

     The rage boils over, spilling out of her as she surges to her feet. She paces the room, caged predator, her sharp movements rattling the furniture. She’s a trapped housecat. Fourth floor. Too high. So Nami turns to the one keeping the door closed for her and snarls :

 

     “ Anytime you meet anyone sane enough to stay away from him, you might realize that his love is nothing more than obsession with control. I sure hope Russian did beat some sense into you since you got married. That girl is too smart to let you spew that kind of bullshit for years. Surely by now you must have realized keeping me in his threads tower back then was never about caring for me ? ”

 

     Damning silence. Gritted teeth, fleeting eyes behind dark glasses.

 

     “ You do know that, right ? 

     - Russian is dead. 

     - What did you do to her ? ”

 

     She regrets her question as soon as it leaves her lips, suspicions tumbling out of her throat. It might have been kinder to stab him. 

 

     “ I wasn’t here when our son died.

     - Why ? 

     - When I got home-, ” He still won’t look at her. “-she was furious. She left and there was an … incident. Some landslides. She was almost dead for years, awake but absent. ” Trembling voice, but she can’t bring herself to care. “ And then she wasn’t here at all. The young master was kind, he was here for me. ” 

 

     And when shaky breath ends up in full-blown sobs, she pats his back, lets him cry, like a man, he says. Guilt and grief wrapped in one. Still, he learned nothing. 

 

     The first time she ran, he was the one to catch her, the one to keep her still, the one to whisper empty reassurances in her ear. He brought her to his home, sat her down for tea with his wife, and told Russian it was only some lovers quarrel. Hands bloodied with the strings she ripped to earn her liberty. Shredded palms and broken nails weren’t enough of a sacrifice. Soiled tea cups, she poured some red in her jasmine tea when trying to stir it. Senor Pink didn’t mind it, didn’t mind her ; Russian offered her gauze and chocolate. She lent an ear and a helping hand. Some stern advice to fix her rocky relationship with her lover. 

 

     “ Don’t let him lie to you, don’t let him fool you, make him talk and if he can’t offer to keep you safe, leave him. ”

 

     And when Doflamingo came to pick her up, she growled at a giant, showed him her damaged hands, and admonished him with a mighty anger entirely unwarranted for such a small lady. One at Doflamingo’s squinted eyes and she knew. She didn’t even fight. She fell limply between his strings, smiled at Russian and thanked her for her hospitality. Senor Pink might not like it, but Doflamingo sure popped some luxury champagne the day she died. 

Notes:

I'm really interested in the dynamic that Nami and Senor Pink would have. (Actually, one of my other story with Nami and Doflamingo focus more on what I picture their relationship to be. When Unwoven eternity is finished, I hope I'll be able to post it as well !) He is calm, yet silly. He had a life outside of the family, and failed to take care of his loved one. So did Nami here. She might judge him harshly, but they are not that different in this regard. In the first draft of this story, in french, Russian was still alive, and I explored their relationship more than I'll do it here. But there is so much I want to do in a single story, and I had to scrape this storyline.

Anyways, thanks for still following this story, I really appreciate it !

No Rosinante yet in this chapter, I'm afraid, but you'll see more of him next week !

Chapter 13: The wine

3 MAY 1522

     Liberty tastes like Doflamingo’s shitty wine. Exhilarating, but she’ll wish she didn’t by tomorrow. She giggles at the thought—regret feels so far away when her head’s already spinning. It doesn't matter anyway, not right now. She left as soon as Senor Pink fell asleep crying. Searched every room. Every goddamn nook and cranny in the palace. She might not have found Rosinante, but she sure found Doflamingo’s wine cellar. And nothing ever beats a glass of wine on the beach. Or five. Or were they bottles ? She can’t quite remember.

 

     Steady hands as she twists the cap off her sixth- sixth ? Yeah, that sounds about right- bottle. Her toes in the sand, legs stretched out. The lulling of the waves, again, its gentle whispers in her ear. The horizon stretched in front of her, gold and amber swirling together. Pretty . She’ll never reach it. Not while Doflamingo is pulling the strings. Still, it’s nice to dream. 

 

     The lulling of the waves, its gentle whispers in her ear. Memories echoing as it turns to foam. Steps on the sand, gentle voice wrapping around her loneliness. On another beach. In another time. Eras blending in warped vision. White hair, leathery voice. Lovingly nagging.  

 

     “ Don’t let men chain you down. ” 

 

     She knows. 

 

     “ They’ll try to keep you here, worshipping the stone… ”

 

     Turns out they didn’t have to keep her in one place to make her a guardian of the amber. Only to crack her ribcage open to make an eternity’s home out of her. 

 

     “ Don’t let their devotion make you forget what liberty you yearn for. ” 

 

     She knows. She knows , damn it. Still, she is trapped by two men now. One ties her with threads and threats. The other with past sentimentality and sworn promises. Her throat burns, her cheeks hot and sticky with salt, sweat or tears. She doesn’t wipe her face. The bottle smashes into the sand, shattering under her grip. A sharp sting cuts across her palm, but she doesn’t flinch. She stares at the jagged glass, her chest heaving with barely contained rage. This isn’t liberty. This isn’t even a rebellion. 

 

     This is pathetic.

 

     She should abstain from promises. She didn’t honor the one she made to Rossinante, nor the one to Roger or the one to Belmer or- Ugh . Too many bottles. Too many broken promises. Ah. No wine left. No excuses for her to keep hanging out at the beach. The sun went down a while ago. So did the chatter of the city, not far from here. A moment of peace. Quiet on her own terms. 

 

     Until she can hear steps in the sand. 

 

     She doesn't bother to open her eyes. There is no need. The rustling of feathers tells her everything she needs to know. He was always supposed to find her. That’s what he does. He hunts her down, drags her back, breaks her in ways that never quite heal. Hoping for his surrender is idiotic. Still, she wishes she could have had more time. He sits next to her, and for a moment, neither of them talks. Silence stretches between them, heavy and sharp. His arm drapes around her waist, almost a caress before bringing her close. She hates the familiarity of it. Hates him. It’s uncomfortable, never knowing when he’ll be gentle and when he’ll try to break her between strings. It all feels the same now. 

 

     " I didn't think you would go so far only to run away from me.

     - The kitchen was nowhere near as hard to find as you would think. "

 

     His laugh, victory kept in a low rumble, against her collarbone. 

 

     " You know full well that's not what I meant, ” he says, and his voice is too soft, too gentle. She might punch him. “ I had a talk with Rosinante. Quite the interesting one."

 

     Her whole body tenses, still, she won't betray her secrets with such an old trick.

 

     " So how does it work ? Do you turn into a baby every time you die ? Or is that a nasty trick you only pull for me ? ” She wishes she had more wine. Waves echoing her dancing vision. A silence. Always too short. “ Now, why would you do that ? ”

 

     Why … ? He may have forgotten, but she remembers his tower. Silence, helplessness and his arm around her waist every night. If she were to grant him immortality, he wouldn’t ask for more. He would simply take it. And there is nothing she would be able to do. Her hand twitches, fingers itching to grab a shard of the broken bottle and drive it into his throat. She can see it. Blood-stained sand, fading snicker, dying laugh. But she doesn’t move. Grinding teeth, nails digging into the palm of her hands, revolt in the small ways she can manage.

 

     “ Why do you care ? ” she hisses, words slurring into each other. “ I told you a hundred times, I would have done everything to stay away from you. 

     - Yes, like you did get branded by a fishman.

     - Still hang up on that ? "

 

     He doesn’t answer, but crouches beside her, knees sinking into the sand with a quiet scrape. His hand on her waist tightens, just enough to make her flinch. His other hand drifts down her arm, pausing where the angry mark scarred her skin.

 

     " That tattoo is so ugly.

     - Yes, yes, it is. "

 

     Casual cruelty. His chin resting on her head. It feels like placating a petulant puppy. He would bite her hand clean off if she didn’t stroke him just right. 

 

     " You should get rid of it, " he whispers, low and almost tender.

 

     Her laugh bursts out, bitter and sharp, cutting through the quiet lull of the waves. Too blue. Too calm. She wishes it could roar, rise up and swallow them whole. Instead, it keeps on whispering as she scoffs. 

 

     “ Oh, should I ? ”

 

    She pushes back against him, defiance in a rough hand. She staggers to her feet, swaying as the wine sloshes in her veins. 

 

     “ I won’t trade his brand for yours. 

     - Get anything you’d like. But not this. ”

 

     For a second, something flickers behind his glasses, his smile faltering. It is only for an instant, before it comes back—a thin, placid stretch of teeth. Nami laughs again, but there is no humor in it. Only exhaustion, bitterness, and something raw that the alcohol can’t dull. She stands before him, arms crossed and wrinkled nose. 

 

     “ I might be more comfortable with you trapping me in strings for weeks than this . ”  She gestures vaguely between them, voice cracking. “ At least that makes sense. Don’t- Please just don’t try to pretend to be a decent human being. It’s unnerving. ”

 

     She dusts off some sand, and prepares to turn her back to him before he whistles :

 

     “ I would be good for you if you let me. 

     - You being nice only means I haven’t figured out what you’re trying to get out of me yet. ” A hand on her hips, her lips curl into a crooked smile, bitter and tight. “ Last time, you had me fooled for two whole years. I don’t fancy doing it all over again. You don’t get to torture me, interrogate me, try to kill Rosinante, bury him for years and try to make it all magically ok with kisses and fake gentleness. ”

 

     Doflamingo laughs, deep and cold. Like drowning. Without warning, his arms wrap around her waist again, drawing her closer. 

 

     “ You never stopped to consider I might have been sincere, back then ? ” 

 

     She looks down on him, eyes unfocused by alcohol. 

 

     “ No. If you had been honest, I wouldn’t have had to run away. 

     - Yes, because you would never have come with me to begin with. 

     - You got it right. ” 

 

     Ruthlessness behind a gentle tone. Sincerity is a sharper blade than her lies with him. His smile, made of clenched teeth. He could rip her to shreds. Tear the flesh. But he won’t, the patience he displays is still part of his act. He has to follow through, until she lets her guard down. She won’t let him keep up this charade.

 

     “ What kind of degenerate would use the beheading of my captain as the right time to introduce yourself, huh ? ” Sharp glance, lethal tone. “ Especially not while conveniently leaving out that you used to know me. Did you really expect I would recognize a scrawny kid, more than five years later ? 

     - That was hardly worth mentioning. ”

 

     Casual tone. She expects fleeting eyes, but he is looking straight at her, with the smallest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. She should rip it between her claws. 

 

     “ Bullshit. ” Rage made a home out of her, flows in her veins as naturally as the amber’s energy, she has more fangs than teeth by now. “ What did you see in me when Roger died, huh ? Was I pathetic ? Lonely ? An easy prey ? If you were to care for me, I would be grateful enough to let you in with my secrets, right ! So what was the plan ? Make me a lovesick fool, make me believe you loved me, hope that I would be enough of a pushover to make an immortal out of you, thinking you would be by my side for all eternity ? 

     - That's how Corazon did it though. ”

 

     She grabs his cheeks, like he did hundreds of times, her breathing ragged, and hiss.

 

     “ Wrong. Rosi became an immortal because you killed him. I trusted him to give me back the amber’s shards when the time came. I trusted him like I trusted you when you came to whisk me away for adventures. Except Rosinante told me the whole truth the day we met again, and you tried your damned hardest to hide it from me. 

     - To be fair, you should have recognized me. ” 

 

     His mocking smile and his raised eyebrows is a practiced act of disbelief ; she doesn't let it fool her. So, instinctively, she squeezes harder. 

 

     “ You people change too much when you decay. ”

 

     Her hand is a mockery of tenderness when she caresses his face, when her fingers dance around the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips. Her act is only a mirror of his own. She steals his rosy glasses, tries them on, gets a taste of the world he sees everyday. Cruel smile, gentle hands as she stomps on his pride.

 

     “ You are only 39, and your eyesight is already declining. ” She slides his glasses back on his nose. “ You’ll keep decaying. And, one day, you’ll die and I’ll be free. ”

 

     She expects his ire to rival her own. But there is a certainty in his posture, in his cocked head and proud chin as he kneels in front of her.

 

     “ It doesn’t matter anyways. ” She freezes. “ There is never only one way to achieve your goals. I don’t need you to become an immortal anymore, I only need to make sure you’ll spend eternity by my side. 

     - What the hell are you talking about ?

    - Maybe you should have a conversation with Corazon about his little protegee, he has… an interesting devil’s fruit. The kind that would prove useful when I’ll catch him again. The kind that had Corazon betray your little promises of a quiet life somewhere in East Blue. ”

 

     Slowly, she lets go of his cheeks, face as pale as the moon reflecting on their face. And as he rises, she doesn’t even fight when he drapes his arm around her and brings her back to his room. The waves keep whispering all night long. They never stop. 

Notes:

I went back and forth so much with this chapter. Because Nami and Doflamingo are trapped in this in-between anger and familiarity in their relationship, so the balance is quite hard to get right. Hope you liked the dynamic I finally settled with ! I'll see you next week for chapter 14 !

Chapter 14: The price for finding each other again

Notes:

I'm sorry, I'm late for this update ! I went to see a friend for a few days, and thought I would be able to update this week's chapter on my phone in time. Turns out, my phone was not quite cooperative with AO3 x)

 

4 MAY 1522

     There is hair, tickling her cheek. Short. Almost coarse. Rough hands pining her waist. Threads binding them both. A cocoon for him. A prison for her. He engulfs her between long arms, drowns her against his torso and he sleeps so peacefully while she suffocates. He smells like … obnoxious cologne. Pricey stuff. Satin sheets. So many threads. She distantly wonders if he was the one to weave them. She could press the pillow against his face. It could end here. She could find Rosinante, and they could run away, leave the monster behind. She could-

 

     “ Like what you see ? ” 

 

     Dark eyes. Smug smile dancing on his lips. Fingertips following her spine. 

 

     “ I was wondering how long it would take me to suffocate you with your pillow. 

     - Is that a new kink ? Your taste changed quite a bit. 

     - Shut it. ”

 

     Threads loosening up around them both. But his hold on her waist doesn’t weaken. She might be glad for once, her vision is swirling. Her head is killing her. Too much wine. Ugh . Wine hangovers were always the worst. Should have stolen whiskey or sake. Or maybe she should have stopped after her fifth bottle. 

 

     “ I'm glad you're quite docile today, I expected a whole lot more shouting, even this early. ” His nose tickles her neck, and she flinches away from him. “ You don’t look too good though. ”

 

     She takes a long inspiration, as if preparing a long wail,- purely to prove a point -, but his hand silences her before she can even scream, and her revolt ends in a muffled groan. 

 

     “ Come on, you know that's not the kind of screaming I like to hear from you.

    - You already used that line. ” Head thrown back to give him a pointed look. “ And anyway, that’s the only kind you ever got from me.

     - I guess that's true, it's more like you're whimpering usually.” 

 

     He caresses her spine, she chases his hand away. It is way too early for his bullshit. So Nami elbows him sharply in the ribs, and gets away from him. 

 

     “ Once, ” she hisses. Stone cold floors, naked feet as she crosses the room to his wardrobe. “ We did it once. 

     - Thrice. ” 

 

     His words stop her mid-stride. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look back.

 

     “ I was too hammered for it to count. 

     - It was good anyway. ”

 

     She ignores him, opening his wardrobe with more force than necessary and the door whines. Hungry hands dig in his shirts, and she groans when she spots her old things in the upper drawers. Shirts. Bras. Panties. Of course he kept them.

 

     “ You were too young. 

     - I was an adult. ”

 

     His torso against her back again, arm outstretched to grab the pink dress she’s been aiming for. When she turns to him, arms crossed and furrowed brows, she resists the urge to snap at him, raising her head instead to level exhausted eyes in his direction.  

 

     “ You were an idiot who thought a clumsy cunnilingus would convince me that you were the one partner I needed to spend eternity with. I'd hardly call that adult enough. 

     - Are you implying that if I were to lick you good, I’d qualify ?

     - What the hell ? Disgusting pervert ! ”

 

     She can feel the heat rising to her face, her composure slipping. His fingers press on her cheeks, like she did last night. 

 

     “ Well, you only have to give me a chance to prove it, I have quite mastered my tongue since then. ” Her patience snaps . She shoves him back with both hands, but he traps her by the waist, and chuckles in her ear. “ I should let Corazon know I won't need his little protégée in the end. Immortality in exchange for eating you out … That's quite a good deal. 

     - For you. ” 

 

     She snags the dress from his hand, and walks quickly to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She slips on the satin dress with hurried hands, not quite confident that Doflamingo can be good and wait for her in the bedr- 

 

     “ Wait. ” Fingers stilled in her hair, fighting a knot, she realizes : “ You talked about Rosi's protégée yesterday too.

    - Did I ? ” His singsong voice through the door. She might punch him. “ Oh, maybe you should talk to Corazon. You have so much to catch up on. 

     - … You'll let me ? ”

 

     She passes her head through the door of the bathroom, peeking at him with a raised eyebrow. Hope flares up in her chest, suffocates her. Unfamiliar. It might be a trick. But Doflamingo only cocks his head to the side, with a lopsided grin she knows better than to trust.

 

     “ Of course. ” Silky voice, so soft she could slip and drown in it. He smooths over his usual edge and she winces. “ After all you've been a good girl since landing on Dressrosa.

     - … I buttheaded one of your minions,-

     - Ah yes, poor Viola.

     - … And I ran away to the beach on the first day. 

    - Come on ! ” He opens the door fully, drags her out by the waist. “ Now that I know what little stunt you pulled last time to run away from me, you're gonna have to do a lot more extravagant than that to make me believe you seriously tried to run away from me. This was no more than you going for a walk. ” 

 

     The grin she offers as she almost gently pushes him away is more cat-like than she usually allows herself with him. 

 

     “ You're quite demented, you know that, right ? 

     - Demented ? Maybe. Now, get moving, ” he laughs, stepping aside and gesturing toward the corridor. “ You want to see Corazon, don’t you ? Or would you rather waste more time trying to insult me ? ”

 

     Brief hesitation. The spider doesn’t spin strings he can’t use. She doesn't fancy knowing how he could use what he’ll trap in his web. She adjusts her dress and walks toward the door, brushing past him without another word. And as she steps into the hallway, she hears his low chuckle behind her, the sound trailing after her like an unwelcome shadow.

 

 

     Slammed door, fiery whisky eyes. A ghost, stepping into the infirmary. Warmth, humming in his chest. Familiar melody, yet, never heard before. Cracked amber glowing on her plexus, as do his own shards. The words are stuck in his throat. Such a baby face. So young, and still so troubled. 

 

     Her knee sinks into the mattress and Rosinante sinks in her embrace all the same. He can barely hear Doflamingo’s growl over the melody playing against their chest. Fragments of amber, finally reunited again. 

 

     “ Nami, what are you doing here…-”

 

     She only tightens her hold, her head buried in his shoulder, nails digging in his back. Echoes of something primal, of hands, burrowing the earth, nails hitting against wood. And then, he hears sniffles. Light, undignified sniffles. Feels his shirt slowly getting wet. Until the warmth is brutally taken away. Red head, thrashing in the hold of a big hand and a few strings. 

 

     “ I think your touching little reunion lasted long enough. ”

 

     She’s a cat, hair standing on end, hissing and spitting. Clawing at Doflamingo’s face. And as the shards’ melody drowns under her indignant scream, panic crushes his chest. He found her. She’s here. Again. She shouldn’t be here. Should be with Belmer. Safely hidden in Cocoyashi. Not here. Never here again.

 

     “ Twenty minutes. ” Her voice, sharper than he remembers. “ Let us twenty minutes, and I’ll get rid of this. ”

 

     Careful hand over tender, blackened skin. A tattoo. And Rosinante can still recognize the way greed curls his brother’s lips and narrows his eyes behind his rose-colored glasses. 

 

     “ Really now ? ”

 

     The blanket wrinkles under his fist when Nami nods, and Doflamingo leaves the room quietly. His obedience is too quick… This tattoo means much more for him than it does for her. No echoes of steps in the corridor, he lurks, his back to the door surely. And now, the only thing he can hear again is the shards, chanting. Sniffling nose. Short hair. Slender arms, slender than he remembers her ever having. Red-rimmed eyes in a hunger-pang frame when she whispers : 

 

     “ What happened to you ? ” 

 

     She sits in the chair next to his bed, shoulder dropped. Vulnerable heart offered in a long whisper.

 

     “ We waited. ” 

 

     Trembling voice, yet black pupils staring at him, unflinching. Words just won’t come out, until she takes his hand in hers.

 

     “ Things … got complicated. ”

 

     No words seem enough to encapsulate why he betrayed her ten-year wait. 

 

     “ We thought you forgot us. ” Bitterness, surely . Teeth chewing on her lips. “ Belmer was heartbroken. I heard you found a protegee, someone else to care for. ”

 

    He raises his eyes to her, searches for traces of Doflamingo’s lies, poisoning one of the few things he did right in his life. Law . He finds nothing, only softer eyes and hands that gently cradle his face. 

 

     “ I’m not mad, love. ” Her fingers, dancing in his hair. Tremors in her voice still. “ I was terrified I asked too much of you … ”

 

     An hesitation, she glances at the glowing amber shards in his chest.

 

     “ I did. " Breaking voice as she whispers : " I’m sorry. ”

 

     She looks too young to be the same maternal presence she once was to him. Yet he feels like he did the day she told him she wouldn’t be able to take care of him anymore. Gentleness and sorrow blended in a guarded stroke on her features. 

 

     “ No. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. ” His voice, hoarser than he remembers. He envelopes them in a bubble, keeping their conversation a silence for them to hear only. “ He started recruiting kids … I couldn’t let him do that. That’s how I met Law. ”

 

     Fleeting eyes. His throat, dry. She hands him a glass of water before he can even ask. 

 

     “ Law was dying. Angry too. And then Doflamingo heard news about the ope ope no mi … ” She freezes, lips drawn in a tight line. She knows , before he even tells her. “ He needed it. He would have died-

     - So you offered Doflamingo a tool to make himself an immortal ? ” She frets, disbelief and grief painfully blended. “ Why would you do that after all we did ? ”

 

     Dreamy smile, not a doubt in his voice when he squeezes her hand and whispers. 

 

     “ He didn’t deserve to die like that. He’s a good kid. ” 

 

     A disbelieving silence. 

 

     “ No, really ! There is no way he would ever work for him again. ” Not after what Doflamingo did to them both anyway. “ They have a bit of a complicated history.

     - If Doflamingo catches him, he won’t be given a choice. Are you sure he can spend his whole life running from him ? I sure thought I could, and here I am. ”

 

     She lets herself fall back on the chair. Slow breath, closed eyes, and a tired hand over her face. She chews on her words, carefully, but still they echo in the silent infirmary. 

 

     “ If he ever comes here, you do know I’ll have to get rid of him, right ? ” 

 

     Fleeting eyes, some reality he is not ready to confront yet. She sighs, crosses her legs, elbow on her knees, a sad smile resting her hand.

 

     “ Your kid is almost as old as you are by now. Let’s just hope he forgot you already. ”

 

Notes:

Oh Nami is really not ready for the poor guy with a huge heart tattooed on him for Corazon.

I kinda struggle with the progression of the dynamic between Nami and Doflamingo these days, it feels too quick or too slow depending on the chapter, so I'm really relieved some of you seems to like it. Thank you so much for still reading this, I appreciate really appreciate your feedbacks !

Chapter 15: The spider's honey trap ?

 

5 MAY 1522

     “ That’s a terrible design. ”

 

     Jora turns her design sideways, then upside down, nose wrinkled with disgust. Trying to make sense of it, probably. And Nami’s annoyance grows the longer she stares. But as she prepares to bark, an exasperated voice chimes in.

 

     “ This is not the place for your art. Do it exactly as it’s drawn, Jora. ”

 

     Crossed arms, weary eyes, a pile of pink feathers stands in the corner of the room. She didn’t expect him to sit here for the whole process. But he was here when she drew her tangerine and the pinwheel, hand steadier than it has been in a long time. Far enough from her not to make her uncomfortable, close enough to peek at the blue pouring out of her quill. Still, he said nothing, a small smile dancing on his lips. Jora, however ? She bitches and moans as applies the stencil on her arm, cocks her head to the side, as if questioning the placement one last time.

 

     “ You should really put it sideways. It would be … less horrendous. 

     - But a whole lot more stupid ! ”

 

     Nami swats her hand away, clicking her tongue, and takes a long, hard look in the mirror. She didn’t bother explaining. Won’t expect Jora to recognize what that symbol means to her. Under the stencil, she can still see the angry jaw of the beast she worked for, once upon a time. Soon, it will disappear. Tangerine and wind taste like liberty. 

 

     “ It’s perfect. ”

 

     Neither Doflamingo nor Jora answer that. So she turns to the woman, tight smile on her lips and eyes fixed to her arm.

 

     “ So, how does it work ? What do we do with the old- ? ” She bites back a scream. 

 

     Jora. Bitch. She should know better than to ask this kind of question, by now. Her arm is burning, crawling with something. And Nami shouldn’t look, knowing she is too squeamish to get the answer of her question, but still, she stares at the ink moving under her skin ; old blackened lines rearranging themselves. The curve of the shark’s back rounds up until it becomes an unthreatening pinwheel. Its nose curls up on itself until she can see the tangerine marking her skin. She traded slavery for willful devotion, a happy memory made of laughter and sugary fruits. She distantly hears Jora’s footsteps receding, her mumbling and grumbling. And as her hand caresses her arm, slowly, she raises guarded eyes to Doflamingo, biting back a soft smile, more sincere than she is comfortable ever showing him.

 

     “ Thank you. ”

 

    She can hear the bullshit coming even before he opens his mouth, and she braces herself for irritating boasting, the unrelenting teasing or the lecherous comment. It never comes. Instead Doflamingo leans towards her, head cocked to the side, frowning eyebrows and without a smile. Silence stretches between them, intimacy woven between careful hands, fingers lightly grazing over the tender skin. 

 

     “ Do I have to check if you tattooed yourself some idiot’s jolly roger ? ”

 

    There is an unsettling intensity in the way he looks at the pinwheel, like a riddle worth solving. Guarded anger, cautious jealousy. A beast trying to control itself behind a playful voice that rings hollow. 

 

     “ No need. ”

 

    She’s not quite sure why her voice sounds gentler, as if trying to comfort him. And she is even more confused when she feels the need to add : 

 

     “ I wouldn’t even do that with Roger’s. 

     - Good. ”

 

    Not a smile. Hand almost gentle when he ruffles her hair. Calm steps as he leaves her alone in their bedroom. Huh . That’s new.

 

     The library smells like dust and silence. She finally managed to slip away from Baby 5’s watchful eyes, and that’s a damn shame she won’t use this occasion for more than enjoying the quiet sound of turning pages. Her fingers trace the spine of a large navigator’s volume, a diary of long forgotten adventures, and she sighs. No useful book on Dressrosa here. Doflamingo likely made sure to destroy or hide them when he took over the place. The crafty bastard. No maps, no history. Nothing for her to search for escape routes. Rosinante never came here either, that won’t be as easy as last time. No secret passage, no overlooked corner of the island to take advantage of. Not that she knows of anyway.

 

     Outside, she can hear Baby 5 screaming for her at the top of her lungs, and she flinches when the library’s door creaks. Shit. She hoped for a little more time before-

 

     “ Oh. ” Brown hair, piercing eyes, nose covered with a bandaid. “ Viola, right ? ”

 

     Viola levels cold eyes in her direction, and Nami flinches. 

 

     “ Huh. Sorry about that, ” she groans, her finger taping her own nose lightly. “ I-

     - It’s okay. ”

 

     They sit, face by face, in absolute silence. The quiet sound of page turning somehow becomes … unnerving. Nami can still feel her eyes, trained on her with unrelenting stubbornness.

 

     “ I’m not very comfortable with people prying into my thoughts. ” She raises her chin, rightful indignation between furrowed brows. “ I’m sure you can understand that.

     - Who is Doflamingo for you ? 

     - I’m sorry ?! ”

 

    She can feel her cheeks burning up, wide eyes and mouth gaping open. But Viola only crosses her legs, hands resting on her palm. Placid voice, stoic face. Utterly serious. 

 

   “ I don’t understand. ” Her index, lightly tapping her chin now. “ I see rage. Amusement. Resentment. Nostalgia. Push, and pull. Seems like you can’t pick between hot and cold. Are you waiting for him to give you any excuse to be gentle with him ? ”

 

     Twitching eyes, rage kept behind grinding teeth. She shouldn’t have apologized. Viola might see everything, but she certainly can’t understand it all.

 

     “ He won’t, you know ? ” Her voice, gentler now. But eyes still so cold. “ He’s …-

     - Only gentle when he’s sure of being in control. I know. ” Nami cocks her head to the side, baring her teeth in a smile made of fangs. “ How about you ? ”

 

     She closes her book, and leans toward Viola before she hisses in a low voice : 

 

     “ I can recognize when someone else might resent him as much as I do. So why are you playing the obedient minion ? Do you think you can gain anything from him ? ”

 

     A muscle twitches in Viola’s jaw. Her lips curl slightly—not quite a sneer, not quite a smirk. Just something bitter, caught between anger and something else too tangled to name. Greed ? Hm. No. Desperation. Jackpot .

 

    “ I know what I’m doing. ” Displeased curl of her lips, a pretty woman scorned, trapped. Yeah Nami surely knows that look, recognizes that voice when Viola seethes : “ Do you ? ”

 

    She leans back into her chair again, runs a nervous hand through her hair, and casts a glance to the door. Baby 5’s voice is getting louder.

 

     “ I needed to make sure Rosinante was ok. Doflamingo won’t always be in Dressrosa. When he’ll leave, I’ll get Rosi out of here. Then I’ll run again. You should do the same. You don’t hide your loathing well enough to survive long with him. ”

 

     The door flings open, and Nami turns to a disheveled Baby 5 with a soft smile.

 

     “ Hi, Baby 5, would it be a bother to fetch us some biscuits and a cup of tea ? I was getting to know Viola.

    - Absolutely not ! The young master asked me to make sure you’ll rest in your room. You were only supposed to go on a short walk, ” she nags. “ I didn’t expect you to dash the first chance you got. I can’t believe I failed him like that…-

     - Sorry sorry ! ” she laughs.

 

     Cute puppy. She could abuse her desire to make herself useful some more. Could tell her that she can only depend on her to escape the stuffy bedroom. Could tell her she needs companionship. That she is the only one she trusts enough to ask of her that she hides her secret meetings. She won’t. Viola needs more time before they can meet again. So she smiles at her as she gets up. 

 

     “ That’s a damn shame. We’ll have to end it there today. ‘Till next time, Viola ! ”

 

     She waves, before grabbing the hand of Baby 5 and dragging her away. Viola could be an ally. Surely a wary one, but an ally all the same. And Nami sure can’t afford to be picky. He’ll change his mind about his weird gentleness soon. 

 

 

     He only comes back to their room in the middle of the night. Quieter steps than he used to ; she can only guess at his hands, unbuttoning his shirt, by the rustling of the fabric. Pants dropped to the ground almost silently. And then, the cold breeze hits her as he slips under the duvet. She expects grabby hands, his nose and his breath brushing against her neck. It never comes. But she feels his hands, softly caressing her arm. And it’s only when she hears soft snores that she can feel strings draping around her, their grip almost gentle. And if she drapes her arm around his waist, tomorrow, she’ll pretend the strings made her do it.

Notes:

When I began posting this story, I had ten chapters already fully written, and the whole story planned. I have to admit, this was the last chapter I have fully written already. So starting now, publishing every week might be more challenging. I really like being able to post weekly, so I'll try to stick to it. I'll see you next week, on saturday, and we'll see if that's something I'm able to keep doing !

Chapter 16: The dance of the kitten and the black flamingo

Notes:

I struggled with this chapter quite a lot, it's quite a miracle I finally managed to finish it before midnight. Hope you'll enjoy it anyway !

EDIT 15.02.2025 : No chapter this week, I'm truly sorry, I lost a friend this week and I'm coming back home for the funerals. It's a bit far from where I am now, and I need to be up in a few hours. I tried to write this week chapter, but I'm truly not satisfied with what I wrote for now, and I'm pretty sure I would regret posting my draft to keep up with the publication rhythm. I'll see you all next week, probably on friday.

 

2 JUNE 1522

    Pulsing heart to the rhythm of the bass and laughter.  They keep her glass full and her feet dancing. Dressrosa’s nights always feel like an eternal summer night, a fever dream. The air is thick with heat, her skin slick with sweat, and her hair lit up by the sunset. She can still see Doflamingo, drowning in a sea of admirers ; he’s all sharp smile and clean shirt opened on his torso. Something is seriously wrong with him these days. No grating laugh, no lecherous smile, no grabby hands. Docility packed in a looming presence, eyes riveted to her tattooed arm, hands caressing the shifted ink every opportunity he has. But it’s been almost a month since the last time he grabbed her by the waist in the middle of conversation. Weeks since he draped his arm around her shoulders while walking. 

 

     She’s not bothered by it. She’s not. Really. 

 

     “ Nami, grab that glass any tighter, and you’ll be the one in the infirmary tomorrow. ”

 

     She turns to Senor Pink, with a tight smile and downs her drink. He raises an unimpressed eyebrows in her direction and huffs. The pleasant buzz settles in her head, and she smiles. Decadent party and music so loud it drowns her thoughts. That’s exactly what she needed. There is no scheming, no worrying. Tonight, Nami doesn’t care. 

 

     “ Slow down on the alcohol,- ” Senor Pink whispers in her ear, covering the music-, “ or you’ll be out of it when Corazon will finally get here. 

     - Yeah, yeah, right.”

 

     A poor waitress has the misfortune of passing by her, her tray full of glasses of champagne ; she grabs her by the collar, drapes her arm around her shoulder, and snatches a drink with the other. Another one. A third one.

 

     “ Thank you, darling. ”

 

     She lets her go with a resounding kiss on her cheeks, and walks away, her hips swinging. Soon, Nami kicks off her shoes, feet sliding across the floor ; worn stone cool against her soles, grounding her as she lets the music guide her. She shifts her weight effortlessly, stepping and spinning, her toes barely skimming the ground before lifting again. Her hips swing in smooth, hypnotic arcs, rolling with the beat. Movements sharp and smooth, she keeps her steps unpredictable. She can’t remember the last time she let herself be possessed by the beat like this, arms lifted, elbows bending as her fingers carves delicate patterns in the air, tracing invisible melodies that only she can see. The sweat on her skin glistens under the moonlight. Soon, she is short on breath, but her grin is eating her whole face, as she tilts her head back, eyes half-lidded. Liberty no longer tastes like Doflamingo’s shitty wine. It tastes like Baby 5’s hand when she drags her away to stomp to a new beat together. 

 

     “ Young mistress, care to dance ? ”

 

     She smiles, and takes her hand in hers. 

 

     “ That would be my pleasure. ”

 

     Liberty in a smile, as she spins the deadly maid as if she were any other miss. Baby 5 squeals as Nami pulls her into another spin, their arms locking before they collapse against each other in breathless laughter. Their dresses, damp from sweat. And when the melody dies down, shifts to another song, a salsa, she kisses her knuckles, and lets go of her hand. Arms opened, she lets herself fall in the palace’s pool, and emerges drenched from the water, her dress clinging to her skin, pushing back her hair from her face. That only sobers her enough to know she needs a break. Nami stumbles back towards the bar, her chest rising and falling with exhilaration. And there, leaning against the counter, Rosinante. 

 

     “ You sure swing fast. ” A smile so big it could devour the world ; it only matches her own. “ I thought I wouldn’t see you at all tonight. 

     - That would be a shame, this party is for you after all. ”

 

     Tonight, he is finally free. As much as you can be in Doflamingo’s grasp. And for the first time in weeks, he looks well. No more infirmary walls, no more devouring dark circles under his eyes. She drapes her arm around his shoulders, and he hugs her. She drowns in his embrace. Sometimes, she forgets how big he is. How she can’t carry him in her arms anymore. The kid is a giant now.

 

     “ You look good. 

     - Well, the fresh air did wonders. 

     - He should have let you out of the infirmary sooner, the prick. ”

 

    He laughs softly, and pats her head like he would a kid, and she briefly wonders if that’s how he sees her, these days. In this body, she’s not even nineteen yet. Younger than the kid he took care of, by now. Even when she grows again to the age she died, she’ll never seem a day older than twenty-eight. Only two years older than he’ll be forever. 

 

     “ Do you resent me ? 

     - Huh ? What do you mean ? ”

 

    She downs another drink and her voice seems to resonate louder as the melody dies down before another one starts : 

 

     “ You’ll never get to grow old because of me. ”

 

     Eyebrows raised on his clown makeup. A silence. She empties another drink. And then, she feels his hand, on her shoulder, pressing her down lightly, grounding her.

 

     “ Nami, you’re the reason why I’m still alive. What are you talking about ? When I chose to do what I did, I thought I knew Doflamingo would not let me live. Nothing short of immortality could have stopped him. I lucked out. ”

 

     She chews on her lips, uncharacteristically nervous. 

 

     “ You deserved better than to be dug out of here only to be trapped again by Doflamingo. I wish I knew where to find you before he found me.  

     - You couldn’t have known, ” he states firmly. “ And anyway, don’t you think he’s been more … restrained these days ? ”

 

     She chokes on her drink, coughing as he gently pats her back. 

 

     “ Excuse me ? Restrained ? Did you hit your head ?

     - You know what I mean. ” Restrained as in, he didn’t chain her in a tower this time, got it . “ And there is nowhere better to make sure he will never be able to become immortal. ”

 

     She narrows her eyes, suspicious, before her drunken mind finally makes the connections. 

 

     “ You’re still worried for your kid, ” she hisses in a low whisper. “ Are you serious ? That’s why you didn’t find a way to contact Sengoku yet ! ”

 

     He flushes, ears red with embarrassment, and she spares him no pity as he stammers miserably. 

 

     “ How did you- I was going to…-

    - There was no way that old goat wouldn’t march to Dressrosa personally if he ever heard you were here, alive and well. I was wondering what was taking him so long. You should think about yourself more, the kid-

     - How would you feel if you could leave, but had to leave me behind to die and be used so that Doflamingo can experiment on immortality with my shards of amber ? ”

 

     That sobers her up immediately. Nami turns to Rosinante, opens her mouth, chews on a few words, before closing it once more. She lets her head falls on the bar, eyes still trained on him but all fight has already left her body.

 

     “ Do you care for him that much ?

     - Yes. ”

 

     Simple smile, one that comes from simpler times. And Nami groans. 

 

     “ Fine. I’ll keep an eye out for your precious protegee. But please promise me that if Doflamingo freaks out once more and becomes really dangerous for us, we’ll get out of here, ” she pleads. “ I can’t have him use you to make me agree to some bullshit. ”

 

     He nods. Slow and steady. His voice doesn’t waver a bit as he lies to her and promises. She sighs once more. This is useless. Damn stubborn Don Quixote. 

 

     “ Alright, enough talk. Come dance. ”

 

     His eyebrows shot up. 

 

     “ Me ? Nami, I—

     - No excuses ! ” she resolves, dragging him towards the dance floor. “ You spent so much time in bed, you need exercise ! ”

 

     A sea of moving bodies. They drown in the middle of other dancers, of conversation and laughter. They finally blend in with the crowd, two people, without the painful history, stumbling on the dance floor. Rosinante is a terrible dancer, his steps are made of entangled legs, posture too stiff, painfully resistant to her gentle guiding. He steps on her toes more often than on the stone floor, but she can’t bring herself to care.

 

     “ This is awful, ” he admits through gritted teeth, attempting another clumsy twirl.

     - You’re so terrible, I should be eligible for compensation. ”

 

     The world spins with them, music blending into their laughter, the summer night wrapping around them like a warm embrace. She doesn’t realize that a pile of pink feathers is glaring at them from afar.

 

     Fluffy bed. Feathery. So soft. Must have fallen asleep in Rosinante’s embrace. She missed the kid ; the quick smiles, quick wit. His softness, when his brother is all edge. Nami rubs her face in the coat, drowns in the thickness of it, and tightens her hold. A koala on the back of a black flamingo. Her eyes open, and the world swings like alcohol at the bottom of the drinks she downed all night long. Pink. Pink feathers. She jumps, and kicks his stomach before she can fully comprehend what she’s done. The pink flamingo groans, his hands close in on her own, keep her against him and she hisses.

 

     “ I’ll let you go when we’re back to our apartment kitten, no need to get so agitated, especially not on the stairs. Wouldn’t want me to fall down with you, right ? 

     - You have no issues draping me in strings and making me move how you’d like when it suits you, why the hell did you need to carry me on a flight of stairs ? ”

 

     He doesn't answer, so she climbs higher on his back, puts her chin on his shoulder, and stares at him. Like he did for her so often. 

 

     “ I was wondering where the touchy pervert had gone, but you were just waiting for me to drop my guard, right ? ” He laughs, a low rumble that resonates against her chest. “ How disgusting. ”

 

    The laugh dies down, and she can hear an annoyed puff of breath. His walk, faster, closer to his usual posture, her comfort be damned when he balances weirdly his weight from one leg to another. 

 

     “ Well, you seemed so vexed by my presence... I was trying to give you space.

     - How considerate. 

     - Thank you for noticing. ” She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t move away. “ Did that bother you ? Getting restless just because I’m not all over you ? You know, I could swear I felt you cozy up to me once or twice at night. That easy, hum ? You should’ve just said so—if that’s the game you wanna play, I’ll make it worth your while. ”

 

     She kicks his stomach again, but he only laughs as he drops her on the bed. 

 

     “ You get very obedient when I play nice. ” 

 

     He caresses her arm, the shifted ink, with almost loving candor and she shudders.  

 

     “ What are you doing ?

     - I was wondering how good I could get you to be. ” He smirks ; lecherous smile again and gravel in a silky voice. “ Guess the act’s over, hum ? So, tell me— how do you feel ? Don’t you think I’ve been pretty patient with you ? ”

 

     She chases his hand away, drapes herself in the covers before he can even say another word, and mutters a good night that drowns in the low rumble of his laugh. Huh. The pervert is definitively back. It was no use worrying.

Notes:

EDIT 15.02.2025 : No chapter this week, I'm truly sorry, I lost a friend this week and I'm coming back home for the funerals. It's a bit far from where I am now, and I need to be up in a few hours. I tried to write this week chapter, but I'm truly not satisfied with what I wrote for now, and I'm pretty sure I would regret posting my draft to keep up with the publication rhythm. I'll see you all next week, probably on friday.

 

I rewrote this chapter so many times, I have no idea which version was the best anymore. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I'm pretty happy with Nami's interaction with Rosinante and Baby 5. I'm guessing you might be wondering what Doflamingo is playing at, being hot and cold like that, I guess he is giving Nami a taste of her own medicine. Kinda.

I usually avoid straying from my plans while writing. But I had an idea that implied to change my plans a bit. I tried to make it work, but the scene never flowed like I wanted so I went back to my first plan. Hopefully next chapter will be easier thanks to that. Anyway, see you next saturday !

Chapter 17: Death's theater

Notes:

I would like to thank you all for your patience ! Without further ado...

16 FEB 1523

     Her head is pounding when she awakes in a knot of limbs and strings. A leg, draped around her hips and an arm circling her waist. His hand, lost in her hair. Undignified. Almost vulnerable, in a way. And Nami lets herself get trapped in the instant, hesitant to put an end to the peace. There is no way to fight right now, no need to. It’s still dark. She will throw a fit when the sun rises. He has been sleeping that way since Rosinante got out of the infirmary. It was fine the first week. It’s been months. Anxiety and possessiveness hidden between grabby fingers and an unrelenting grip. He might not think her capable of running away, but oh boy does he make sure anyway that she won’t. Still, he lets her roam the palace during the day, and she didn’t find herself in a tower. Yet. The illusion of liberty, in exchange for her performance of docility. A fairer bargain than she hoped for. She closes her eyes, and listens to the silence’s lullaby. Peaceful. Quiet. So— Puru puru . 

 

     Damn den den mushi . His annoying call doesn't end, but echoes instead in the silent room. Three, four, five times before Nami decides she has had enough and throws her head back violently, hitting Doflamingo’s nose with a resounding crack . He startles awake, in a pearl of insults.

 

     “ Answer the damn den den mushi, ” she groans as he whines, “ or let me go so I do it myself, it’s driving me crazy. ”

 

     The poor thing whimpers when Doflamingo suddenly wraps it in stings, and pulls it from the table, directly onto the bed. With a hand far less gentle than the one he had in her hair, he squeezes the den den mushi, and drawls : 

 

     “ I really hope it’s fucking important, Bellamy. ” Nami perks up, intrigued. “ You made a habit of bothering me in the worst times. ”

 

     She never hears the response, but as the incomprehensible buzzing stretches, so does Doflamingo's smile. He only nods, once or twice. But when he lets go of the poor animal, he raises with the biggest grin she has seen in a long time, and Nami feels her blood run cold. 

 

     “ Let’s go and get Corazon, we’re going on a little trip, it will do him some good ! ”

 

     There is nothing she can offer Rosinante except for confused silence as they watch Dressrosa become smaller and smaller in the horizon. She expected Doflamingo to let Rosinante under the watchful eyes of Diamante or Trebol. Instead, they leave on a much smaller ship than the Numancia Flamingo, only the three of them. No crew, no laughter, no unnecessary blabbering. Only Doflamingo’s unsettling whistling as he guides the ship. Discreet, fast, easy to navigate with only a wiggle of his fingers. Not his usual style. The jerk loves a good entrance too much to forgo theatrics. She exchanges a nervous glance with Rosinante.

 

     “ It would be far easier if you just told me where we’re going. ” She hesitates, only a brief instant. “ I’m a navigator, my whole point is to make sure we get where we need to be the quickest we can. I don’t fancy being struck here with you for longer than strictly necessary only because you felt like a proper crew wasn’t needed. ” 

 

     Doflamingo hums, tilting his head toward her, before he wraps his arm around her waist, and pulls her to his sides. She stumbles and groans when she is forced to lean on him.

 

    “ You’re so impatient, Nami," he drawls, head resting on her hips. “ Just enjoy the ride. I know where I'm going, and telling you would spoil everything. I told you, it’s a surprise . 

     - Your surprises never end well. ” 

 

     Rosinante finally breaks his silence, turns away from the railing, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He never looked so much like his brother. Wariness behind a wall made of a stoic face and unaffected voice. Rosi always used to smile quite a lot, when they were alone, and it’s quite easy to forget how taciturn the presence of Doflamingo made him. There is nothing to do. No point in talking. No use in their frustration. Doflamingo won’t tell them anything. As he wishes. Nami grabs the black featherly coat, and pulls Rosi inside the cabin. 

 

     “ Don’t waste your time on this jerk, ” she grunts while pulling her sweater over her head. “ We should sleep, his majesty doesn’t need us anyway for now. ” 

 

     He doesn’t embrace her, doesn’t offer his hand, or his shoulder, but before long, she can hear his breathing slowing down. His eyelids are exhausted butterflies. Soon enough, his soft snoring becomes a familiar lullaby. She used to sleep with him, when he wasn’t so big, and he wasn’t so strong. Doflamingo was never a child for her, at best a fleeting presence, more rage than boy, but Rosinante will always be her kid . So she caresses his hair, and revels in the pulsating energy of the amber’s shard. And then, she sleeps. Rookie mistake.  

 

     She awakes feeling dragged around. Caught in threads thicker than the cotton of her shirt. Warmer too. Much more appropriate to the biting cold of the island they are on now. There is a revolting familiarity in the way her legs rise, one at a time, to let her go on stage. In front of her, no seats for this grotesque play, except from the chair waiting for her at the stage right. In the dead center of the theater, Rosi, still asleep but standing, arms wrapped in a stupid pose. She turns, looks frantically for another blond. There, his back turned to him. 

 

     “ Oi, asshole ! What the hell are you planning this time ? ”

 

     The blond turns, and she groans. 

 

    “ Bellamy ? Great. ” A quick thought, and her frown turns upside down. “ Great ! You can help me get rid of the threads ! 

     - I’m sorry Nami, can’t do that. ” 

 

     He looks sincerely apologetic. But Nami is surely sincerely pissed.

 

     “ Why the fuck not ? You work for me ! Not for the bird-bastard ! 

     - Well, that’s not very nice. Such a potty mouth. ” 

 

     She catches a fluff of pink feathers to her left, and sinks her claws in the thread, furious. She can feel it dig into her flesh, but she doesn’t stop. Nami might be a coward, she learned to accept that about herself ; but she was surely, at times, quite the persistent one. And she wasn’t about to let Doflamingo cook one of his shit plans. He laughs too much to be offended, but he drapes threads all around her mouth all the same. Silences her in a dance of his fingers. Traps every last one of her movements in a tight knit. Controlling asshole . 

 

     “ I was preparing for the show. Couldn’t expect to be nice enough to wait for me, so I had our common friend keep an eye on you.  ” 

 

     Long fingers digging in the pocket of his ridiculous coat. He takes out a colorful flyer. Confetti of all colors, getting out of a silly gun. And at the end of it, a man, sitting pathetically in the midst of a blizzard, beaten and bloody. White as snow. Red as blood. Blond hair. Clown makeup. Rosi. 

 

     “ It’s pretty isn’t it ? ” Bullshit . “ Thanks to our friend, I heard Law was close by, I couldn’t resist a little nostalgia. It’s been what, ten years ? I’m pretty sure his little protegee won’t be able to resist a trip down the memory lane. ” 

     The promise of a show and death attracts onlookers like flies. And Nami is barely conscious as she hears thread puppets recount a story that Rosinante never even shared with her. That’s the way it is. The way it was supposed to be. Your first death is your own, intimate history, better kept between tight lips and a hazy memory. And now Doflamingo is going to play it all for a crowd of vultures. All of that to catch that damn protegee. She scans the crowd. Unknown faces, unknown monsters, curious of the carnage waiting to happen. A recreation of death. Sadism in their patient wait. All the same. Except… brown hair, baggy overalls, a comically large hat with something written on it. Penguin. A scowl dark enough to grab her attention. Fist clenched, but his other hand is holding a kind of den den mushi. She wishes for a voice to scream, to plead him to go away. But she has only eyes to cry and thoughts to pray that the only kid who seems to care about Rosi won’t be noticed. She expects Doflamingo to notice him right away, he knew the kid enough to recognize him, unlike her. What kind of idiot is this protegee to come ? They should have left, they should-

 

Bang .

 

     She can smell the gunpowder. She sees red. Life, flowing out of him. His sleepy head falling to the side, paling by the second. And then, Nami wails. 

 

     “ Captain, are you sure you want to see it ? ”

 

     Penguin is uncharastically hesitant. Hands gripping the camera model of den den mushi. He doesn’t let go, not even to an outstretched steady hand. Law can only imagine why. The moment he saw that poster, he knew Doflamingo had grown tired of waiting for him to come around. When he asked Penguin to go and see what the “ show ” was like, he expected violence, a gruesome and grotesque retelling of the worst day of his life. Expected ridiculous actors, making fun of the only man he ever loved. Expected Doflamingo’s cruelty. But when Penguin finally surrender the camera, and the first picture appears on the walls of his cabin, he pales, and barks : 

 

     “ Everyone, out ! ”

 

     In front of him, no ridiculous lookalike, no pathetic actor begging for his life. A blond man. Clown makeup. Soft face, head lolling to the side, still asleep. He doesn't even hear the retellings in Doflamingo’s braggy voice. He only hears the soft breathing, a familiar snoring. And Law can’t help but stare at him, searching for any inconsistency, a shaky hand in the way he draws under his eyes, his tangled hair, and the tilt of his clown lipstick. He tries to convince himself that he was blonder, bluer, redder. Bigger. A geant with the gentlest smile. Not this man who seems so small on that big stage. And before he can reconcile with the man in front of him, projected on his wall, he hears the gun go off. And a long, terrible wail that he thinks his own before he notices the redhead at the corner of the stage. Bloodied as she struggles like the devil around invisible ropes. When, finally, the camera shuts down, he finds himself in the dark of his room. He only realizes he’s been crying when he closes his eyes, and buries his head in his shaky arms. That was… realistic.

 

F ucking bird asshole . 

Notes:

I have to point out that Law was supposed to make his entrance way later in the planned fic. But thanks to Orangellover a few chapters ago, I realized it was a shame that he didn't make his appearance sooner, however briefly. This whole episode emerged from that. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, have a good evening, and I'll see you next week !

Chapter 18: The dying guide for arrogant pricks

Notes:

I'm so happy about this week's chapter, I've been struggling a bit recently, but this one turned out okay without much need to edit again and again. Hope you'll like it !

17 FEB 1523

     “ What the hell did you do that for, you fucking lunatic ! ”

 

     Red-rimmed eyes, she hisses, her grip firm around a knife. She would never be able to do serious damage to Doflamingo. But she would be damned if she didn’t try. 

 

     “ Don’t you dare take one more step in this infirmary. 

    - Come on Nami. ” His chuckle, rubbing salt on gaping wounds. “ Don’t be ridiculous. You should give Bellamy his knife back. ” 

 

     Unaffected tilt of his head. The bastard is having fun. She’s not. 

 

     " You didn’t save him back then to let him die because his negligence pissed me off, did you ? Seriously, I let him escort you back to our cabin, and that’s how things ended … You’re one of a kind of an annoying Minx. ” 

 

   She throws the knife at his face before she can even process what she’s doing. It never reaches him. Obviously. Should have expected him to trap her rage between his strings before it could pose a real threat to him. 

 

     “ You didn’t need to do that, ” she spits, rage unleashed in a scream. “ Ever heard of theater props ?! Fake blood, fake gun ? Do I have to teach you that everything on stage is supposed to be fake ? If actors always went this far, the backstage would be fucking empty ! 

     - Well, I’m just that dedicated to my craft ! ” Petulant fake ass pout. “ Beside, he’ll be just fine , leave it to your strange stone. ”

 

     She’s not that sure about that. Closed eyes, glowing chest. Life, pulsating against his skin, fighting to close the wounds Doflamingo left on him. The wounds where the bullets had torn through should have already sealed, fresh skin knitting over the damage in mere moments. Instead, they gape open, the edges trembling. The healing is sluggish, uneven, almost… hesitant. Like it was when they found him again. 

 

     “ This is not supposed to happen. ”

 

     It’s … wrong .

 

     “ Well… It was slow last time ; it’s still slow now. ” He strolls to the side of the bed, next to her, and she claws at his face when he tries to wrap an arm around her shoulder. He only glances a second at his brother. “ Don’t the regeneration powers just get better with time ?

     - This is not how it works. 

     - How would I know ? ” 

 

     Piercing eyes behind pink glasses. He squats next to her, head slightly tilted back. Once, he sat next to her while she drew maps. Quiet companionship, hungry eyes. Famished for knowledge. About maps, about the sea, about her … She turns to the sleeping form of Rosinante, lips dawned in a fine line. His first death should have remained his own to talk about. He took that from him. 

 

     “ ... When I left my homeland, I knew nothing about the sea. ”

 

     The words are out before she even realizes it.

 

     “ When I hit my first storm, my boat went under and I drowned. ”

 

     He says nothing. Hunger behind closed lips. 

 

     “ Have you ever fallen into the sea since you’ve had your devil's fruit?

     - Only an idiot would put himself in that situation. ”

 

     She briefly thinks of a grinning monkey and sinking ships. 

 

     “ Yeah, right . Well … ”

 

     She circles his neck between two hands, and squeezes. One. Two. Three.

 

     “ Every breath is like filling your lungs with water, and snorting salt. ” Six. Seven. Eight. “ There is a kind of helplessness that comes with it, the certainty you're about to close your eyes for the last time. ”

 

     Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. She can see him pale, and she lets go. He draws a long breath, eyes as steady as the line of his small smile. He doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t shy from her touch, her hands on his cheeks. Poisonous intimacy. A honey trap that he sees closing in on him but doesn't run from anyway. The weirdest kind of trust. He knows full well he could always swat her away with a wiggle of his finger.

 

     “ And then you can feel life, struggling. ” She squeezes it again. “ You die once. Twice. Thrice. You die as long as it feels like dying. ” Four. Five. Six. “ And soon you forget that you ever breathed oxygen, that every inspiration didn't taste like salt rubbing on your raw lungs. ” 

 

     Nine, ten, eleven. She lets go again, and offers only a vacant smile.

 

     “ That was my second death. I died for as long as some civilizations lasted. ” 

 

     Sharp breath, eyes still trained on her. Attentive. Good.

 

    “ And one morning, I ended up on the shore. By sundown, I could drag a decadent puff of air without feeling like dying. ”

 

     She drags her eyes along Rosinante’s body.

 

     “ This is not normal. 

     - Maybe he is simply too weak. ” 

 

     His tone, flippant. His voice, hoarse, almost broken. She shouldn’t like it as much as she does. It doesn’t feel like her. Doesn’t feel quite like the rage that made a home out of her. Not that alone. He raises slowly ; pink fluffy coat briefly dusting the floor. She snaps out of it, anger rumbling in her chest, she chews on insults between clenched teeth. They die on her tongue when he continues : 

 

     “ Or maybe you did that wrong. ”

 

     She chokes on shame, her fists clenched around Rosinante’s sheets. In the infirmary’s silence, her admission is only a small murmur, drowned behind a curtain of hair. 

 

     “ Maybe I did. ”

 

     He turns to her, raised eyebrows and crossed arms. 

 

     “ I didn’t expect you to admit that so quickly. ” He scratches his head, before sitting down again, next to her. “ So, was it because it was an accident ? 

     - I have no idea. 

     - Huh, interesting. ”

 

     Rosinante’s eyelids flutter, and they both turn to him, waiting. On instinct, she grabs his hand, tries to feel the energy of the amber, flowing in his body. It’s weak, but as soon as she touches him, the shards in his chest glow in harmony with the ones in her own. A familiar melody, a song made of voices from her home. She doesn’t even hear Bellamy, entering the infirmary and picking up his knife quickly from the ground, before almost timidly approaching. 

 

     “ It doesn't seem as slow as before. ” 

 

     She jumps a little, and turns to him, perplexed. He is still a wounded beast. Too prideful to admit how much Doflamingo scares him. But she can see it in the tension of his shoulder, in the slowness of his steps, and the polite distance he keeps. But wounded beast or not, he is right. The wound is closer, faster than she ever saw him heal. 

 

     “ Well, that’s good. ” From Doflamingo’s tone, it doesn’t seem that good. “ Bellamy here planned a little get away for us, and I didn’t expect my little show to upset your moods quite that much. ”

 

     She glares, he laughs. Then he rises and slowly makes his way to the door, and almost quietly, she waits for him to call for her, to drag her with him. To let Rosinante drown alone in the silence. He never does.

 

     “ Well, you’re allowed to stay with him tonight, ” she raises perplexed brows. “ I need Rosinante to be operational tomorrow, we’re leaving in the afternoon. Sweet dreams . ”

 

     He lets her to immerse herself in the song of her people, and as the door closes, it’s the only sounds she hears anymore, harmonizing with Rosinante's slow breath. 

 

     Rosinante is actually pretty fine by morning. Not considering his foul mood, but that was to be expected. Nobody would be pleased about being shot by his brother, twice . She has yet to tell him that all this was so Doflamingo could drag his protegee out of his hiding place. That might decide him to run from Doflamingo, or that might be the proof he wanted that he needs to be here and make sure personally that Doflamingo doesn't hurt his kid. That’s foolish, the bastard wouldn’t be stopped by his efforts, but she sure can empathize with the spirit.

 

     She caresses his hair, ignores his grumbling, quite out of character for him. She makes no attempt to coax him out of the infirmary’s bed. The wound may be closed, but not the gash to his bubble ; hope burst. Doflamingo had been almost decent for a while, considering his usual standards. That’s why you can’t hope to control a lunatic. There is no real pattern to his behaviour. As long as he is sure he will be able to get away with it, he will do as he pleases. But she’s sure he has no intention to face Doflamingo right now all the same. 

 

     “ Miss Nami. ” Firm knocks on the door. Respect for her privacy. Certainly not Doflamingo. Bellamy. “ You should come on the deck, we’re going up soon. ”

 

     Coming up ? She exchanges a quick look with Rosinante, who nods with a groan. Not coming, understood. So she drags her feet to the deck, and finds Doflamingo, unusually focused. The ship shudders beneath her feet as the first threads unravel from his fingertips, veins of silk over the deck, along the masts, tight around the hull, and she turns to Bellamy, far more anxious than her controlled tone would let anyone guess. 

 

     “ Is he practicing a new party trick ? 

     - Disrespectful—

     - You may not hate him yet, doesn't mean everyone has to admire as much. And I would like to remind you I’m the reason he didn’t slice you to bits. So . What’s going on ? ”

 

     Doflamingo takes a deep breath, the dramatic jerk. And then, with a sharp flick of his fingers, the threads slithers outward, slicing through the air with eerie precision. Reaching for the swelling clouds above. And as they latch on them, she can see his muscles flexing. 

 

He pulls.

 

     The ship groans in protest, an old creaking complaint rising from the wood. The waves splash violently below them, a gigantic mouth foaming white. Hungry for his failure, for drowned sailors. His arms shake, his whole body straining to drag the ship upward. Floating in the air, suspended. For a moment, just a brief moment, the ship dangles, sways, and she can see Doflamingo almost stumbles. And then he laughs, a short, breathless laugh. 

 

     One firm tug, and they surges toward the sky through sheer force of his will. And soon, they climb, higher and higher, until the clouds thicken around them, swallowing them in swirling vapor. At last, they break through the mist. A sea of clouds. Lands. Forgotten lands. Doflamingo straightens, rolling his shoulders. As if nothing had happened, even as Nami stares at him in horror, he only smirks.

 

     “ Welcome to Skypiea, Nami. ”

 

     When the hell did he become so strong... ?

Notes:

I was really wondering if she should strangle him or just pinch his nose and block his mouth. I'm not really sure Doflamingo would let anyone strangle him. But Nami is really no threat. She is just trying to prove a point here, and he knows it. And I guess he figures letting her blow some steam would allow her to "forgive" him quicker.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and thank you to anyone who ever commented, your little words are the reason I still feel motivated to still post this fic regularly. See you next week !

Chapter 19: Doflamingo's shitty idea of a vacation

18 FEB 1523

     Skypiea changed. So profoundly Nami would have never recognized it if Doflamingo wasn’t standing here, proudly displaying a land he clearly never set foot on before. Last time, with Roger, it was a solemn place, peaceful and quiet. Now, it looks scarred. Signs of battle, patched up in haste. Painful history, covered with hard work. 

 

     “ Nami, are you okay ? ”

 

     She jumps when she feels a huge hand wrapping around hers. Rosi, still half asleep, shirt half open, skin showing nothing anymore of the torn mess it was. Fully healed. She forces a smile. 

 

     “ Yeah, I’m fine. ”

 

     Bellamy is the one leading the way, even if Doflamingo is the one blabbering as he drapes his arms around both her shoulders and Rosinante’s. They’re too exhausted to chase him away when he slithers between them. He walks as if owning the place, and she sincerely hopes he doesn’t. Skypiea is a land of history, untouched by Tenryūbito's greed. It has to stay that way. If Bellamy is the hound that led him here, she should have put him down when she had the chance. She scowls to Bellamy, but her resentment is only met with confusion. Soon enough, her anger is drowned in the laughter of kids on the streets and she lets herself relax in Doflamingo’s grip. The town is bustling with life. Angelics kids running around, without a care in the world. Innocent enough not to know to cower away from Doflamingo. 

 

     That is the kind of innocence that could end up being pricey. So Nami still feels relieved when they get away from the street packed with people. Doflamingo may not have come here to take over the country, she doesn’t trust him to play nice for long. A quick glance to Rosinante tells her he’s feeling the same. 

 

    He looks miserable. His coat, heavy with moisture from the humidity, is stuck to his awkward frame. Flightless bird, stuck too high for his liking. He is probably uncomfortable with the idea of relying so much on Doflamingo to ever come back down, where the ground feels solid under his feet. He gets his wish soon enough, when Bellamy leads them through a path where the cloud-built roads fade into soft, damp moss. Still pliant under their feet, but familiar. The thick forest feels like a home she left behind a long time ago, when the idiot clinging to her shoulder was still a brat she couldn’t bother to remember the name of. 

 

     “ This way, ” Bellamy whispers, voice low with anticipation.

 

     Rough hand when he pushes aside a curtain of thick vines, revealing a clearing where a weathered stone stood—inscribed with characters that seemed to hum with history itself. History , a tall stele standing on solid clouds. Nami inhales sharply, her fingers digging into her palms. Rosinante, standing beside her, doesn't look nearly as impressed. He tilts his head, exhaling through his nose before shaking it, teeth gritting around a cigarette. 

 

     “ I knew this was going to be another pain in the ass, ” he mutters.

 

     Nami can’t help but agree. 

 

      “ Is this why you took us here ? 

     - Mh ? No, I was thinking you might appreciate some vacations, especially after all your good work. ” A noncommittal shrug, the smallest smile as he glances at Rosinante. “ But some light reading wouldn’t hurt, hum ? ” 

 

     Part of the meaning of history, some light reading ? Yeah. Right. 

 

     “ You’re aware I can’t read that, right ? ”

 

     His smile disappear. She could swear she heard Rosi chuckling. 

 

     “ What do you mean, you can’t read that ?

     - I didn’t stutter, did I ? 

     - You were alive when it was written. ”

 

     She cocks her head to the side, the nastiest grin on her face. 

 

     “ Purely technically, probably not. Busy drowning, remember ? And anyway, where I come from, nobody had the foggiest idea how to read. Had to learn at some point maybe two-hundred years ago. This—, ” she points to the stele—, “ is as much of a gibberish for me as it is for you. ”

 

    Behind his pink glasses, his eyes are thin slits through which he passes judgment. And her argument certainly did not convince him.

 

     “ I know you were with Roger at the time, are you trying to make me believe it’s a coincidence that in the brief time you were with him, he suddenly found the poneglyph ? ”

 

     Spitefulness kept between her crossed arms. He knows full well Roger is still a sore subject for her. And yet, he never abstains from mentioning him. Jerk . 

 

     “ I was with him for three whole years , I don’t find that that  bizarre. Anyway, I wasn’t the one to read that. ” She caresses the stone, loving hands on hazy memories. “ Now, if you’re done with your shitty idea of a vacation, we should come back to Dressrosa. ”

 

     When he doesn’t answer, and sits on the ground to prepare a copy of the Poneglyph, she knows he doesn't believe her. He’ll have Viola check for lies as soon as they come back to Dressrosa. It doesn't matter. She offered no lie, and the gentle hand of the samurai who deciphered it all is steeled enough to keep himself safe from Doflamingo’s kind. His copy will sit useless in a drawer of his office. So Nami turns on her heels, and drags Rosinante with her.

 

     “ Stay right here, ” groans Doflamingo.

    - This is going to be boring. I won’t wait around for you to copy all that. What, scared I’ll run away ? ” She grabs Bellamy with a frown. “ I’ll take your guard dog then, I think he already proved which master he obeys.

     - You're aware that I planned this trip for you ?

     - I don't care to see your face right now. Your idea of a vacation is pissing me off. ”

 

     She storms off, and while Doflamingo groans, he doesn’t try to stop her.

 

     “ This is a bad idea.

     - Please stop groaning for two damn minutes, and try to have fun ! ”

 

     She drags Bellamy by the arm, her pace punishing, quick and long strides that have him stumbling in her stead. Rosi follows with the biggest grin, and she can’t be too mad anymore. A park. The solemn Skypiea now has a park. And Nami sure won’t spend a second more haggling with petty sellers for things she doesn’t care about when there is now such an anomaly to explore. So, as soon as she heard kids excitedly blabber about it on the streets, she dragged both men there. To the south of the sky island… She turns to the right, finally catching sight of Wago Muland, and immediately freezes. Here, at the entrance, a familiar face, frozen in stone. Curly hair, long nose… Usopp . 

 

     “ What the fuck ? ”

 

     An old granny trots up to her, with a commercial smile.

 

     “ Are you curious about the statue ? ” She’s too speechless to even respond. “ He was one of our heroes, and the one who made this amazing park possible ! ”

 

     She waves her sign around, with the price. 30,000,000. Too many zeroes. And suddenly Nami is not that eager to try this park. The strawhats were there. She glances at Bellamy, but he doesn't seem that curious about her hesitation. Instead, he looks pissed. So before he realizes something is wrong with her, does what she does best ; attacks before anyone can. 

 

     “ Why the sour face, dog ? 

     - He’s one of those buffoons. ” He doesn't even flinch at the name calling, and she raises an eyebrow. “ The strawhats. ”

 

     There is a story here, and showing too much interest in it might come back to bite her in the ass later, but Nami can’t be bothered to care too much.

 

     “ What, did they beat you up ? ”

 

    The silence and his clenched fists are her only response. Oh. She tries to contain her laugh, but fails spectacularly and the blond idiot turns to her with a bark : 

 

     “ Shut up ! 

     - Oh, this is fun. ” She snickers, and grabs Rosinante’s hand before turning to the old lady. “ Do you know a good restaurant, a good place for some talking ? 

     - You should go to the Pumpkin Cafe, good pumpkin noodles. ”

 

     “ … And I can’t believe he found this place in the end. ”

 

     He is drunk now. That cafe had stronger alcohol than she expected, or maybe Bellamy’s resistance is simply that weak. 

 

     “ Well, from what I heard, the strawhat is quite persistent. ” A light laugh. “ Can’t say I’m too surprised he did it in the end. ”

 

     Bellamy’s head hits the table, and she giggles. Rosinante is quietly sipping on his third drink, not even tipsy yet. Might have been more drunk if he hadn’t spilled his last two drinks even before he could take a good sip. 

 

     “ Do you wanna run away now ? ” she asks lightly as she finishes her pumpkin noodles. “ The guy is way too drunk to keep us from leaving. ”

 

     Rosinante sighs, and she groans. 

 

     “ He would be pissed enough to get rid of this entiere island. And you know I won’t run away until I’m sure that Law is safe from him. The stunt he pulled…— ” his hand grazes his stomach, where bullets pierced his skin only two days ago— “ That was to find Law, right ? ”

 

     She never could lie to Rosi. So she nods, silently, and takes a long gulp of her rum.

 

     “ I couldn’t make sure he was safe last time, I won’t do the same this time.

     - Fine. ”

 

     The silence hangs between them, stubborn. And Rosinante is the first to cave. 

 

     “ So … What was that about the statue ? ”

 

     Bellamy’s loud snoring is the only reassurance she needs. 

 

     “ The guy was a member of a crew I was briefly a part of. Heard they went without a navigator because their captain is still convinced I’m their navigator. 

     - Are they crazy ? ”

 

     He laughs, and realizes too late that he dropped his cigarette on his clothes. Soon enough, they are burning, he panics, and empty her drink on his pants to put out the fire. With rum. She throws her head back, her laughter a clear bell. As soon as she calms down, she helps him put out the fire, and leans back in her seat.

 

     “ Yeah, they are. Sure hope your little protege won’t ever get swept up by them, because last I heard, they were still looking for me. They would lead him straight to Doflamingo. ”

 

     That would be unfortunate. They are stupid enough to try and fight him. And she won’t stand to be the reason for Doflamingo to crush them between his strings. 

 

 

     “ You get swayed way too easily. 

     - Oh come on Rosi ! Are you so rich that you would refuse this ? ”

 

     Hands gently caressing the golden pillar, like a lover would, with the softest smile there is. Doflamingo's shitty idea of a vacation sure ended on a good note. That Conis girl back at the restaurant might have been nice these last three days, but nobody’s smile ever stopped her from getting her hand on more gold. And if Doflamingo wanted to drag that huge pillar to their ship, she would never even think of stopping him, no matter where he might have found this. Even if Rosinante is still sulking : 

 

     “ I didn’t remember you were that money-hungry. ”

 

     She casts a side glance to Doflamingo, her lips drawn in a thin line.

 

     “ Well, there wasn't much use for gold when I was in that tower, back then. ”

 

    The stupid bird doesn't comment, even though she knows he heard them. He never does. She’s not that much more free. But when she smuggles dials in the ship, hidden deep in her pockets, his eyes catch sight of the slight bulge in her pants, but he lets her do it anyways. 

Notes:

I hoped you liked today's chapter, I don't have much to say about this one, so I'll see you next week ! ^^

Edit from the 15.03 : I'm struggling a lot with this week's chapter, so except if I suddenly succeed in the next few hours, I'll see you next week, i'm sorry about that

Chapter 20: Oh, they grow up so fast...

Notes:

Thank you everyone for your patience !

MAY 1523

     She can hear pages turning. Today, Doflamingo is silent. Only a looming presence when he pulled her chair, and brushed his hand along the small of her back to get her to sit. And now he eats, and spends the day like she isn’t there, like he doesn’t spend his nights, draping her in his strings, and clutching her. She doesn’t see him much these days, not since Skypiea. He wastes away ‘till night, working on some bullshit she’s not allowed to know about. She’s pretty sure he is still trying to decipher his copy of the poneglyph. Tenryūbitos already know too much about this world, she really doesn't see what he is trying to learn, but knowledge is power, and Doflamingo sure was always starving for both. One of the first things he did when they came back to Dressrosa was to tie her to a chair in front of Viola, and ask her what she knew. And she didn’t lie when she said she couldn’t remember. She didn’t care that much back then. Still doesn’t. But now, the stupid bird is ignoring her again. 

 

     “ What did your steak ever do to vex you so much ? ”

 

     She raises her head to him, confused, before she glances briefly to her plate. Meat, ripped to shreds under her unrelenting assault. Revolting mush. And she can see the corner of his lips raising, slowly, the beginning of the lecherous smile she’s familiar with. She can feel herself frowning, her whole face scrunched up in frustration. So, slowly, she puts down her fork and knife, and raises a disgustingly sweet smile in his direction. 

 

     “ My steak did nothing, it’s your presence I find vexing. ” 

 

     He smiles, like he’s humoring her. 

 

     “ I’d rather eat with Rosinante and Senor Pink. I really don’t see why we have to eat together. You’re much too engrossed in your paper anyway. ”

 

     He chews on his portion, slowly, and she hangs on the silence. She could never rush him. He does things at his pace, and won’t care if you can’t follow or if he has to keep you waiting. Selfish prick. 

 

     “ Well, I guess you would find it interesting too. ”

 

     Outstretched hand and the world at her fingertips when she grabs the paper. He doesn’t let her read often, and she is not about to waste this opportunity. But as soon as she opens the paper, she pales. Speculations concerning the probable death of the strawhats. It’s been more than a year since we last heard of them. The paper crumbles around her tight grip, and she hears a snicker.

 

     “ Page 13. ” 

 

     13 ? This wasn't what he was hoping that she would see ? Bullshit. Grin big enough to devour her grief, make a feast out of it. He knows what he’s doing, the conniving bastard. She steeles herself, firm eyes, rigid posture and hope behind an armor made of sharp bones. It’s only speculation. Rumours. Mindless chatter from idiots. The Luffy she saw at Roger’s kid execution has nothing to do with the weakling portrayed in a few foolish lines. 

 

     “ Are you ok, Nami ? 

     - Peachy. ”

 

     Taunting bastard. She turns the pages, with a trembling hand, and careful poker face. It’s too late, she’s only scrambling to do damage control. And page 13 is no better. There, on the paper, Trafalgar Law’s picture, hands pressed around a still beating heart. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark smile. A silence hangs between them in the dining room.

 

     “ Where is Rosinante right now ? Senor Pink’s quarter ? ” 

 

     Doflamingo barely has time to look up before she’s on him, yanking his arm so hard his glass of wine nearly spills. She drags him along the corridors, following his directions and doing her best to ignore his muffled attempts to stifle his laughter. Oh, yes, he would find this funny, obviously . She doesn’t knock, doesn’t slow, doesn’t care. She’s rage, boiling blood and barred fangs when she slams the door of Rosinante’s quarter. Senor Pink jumps out of his skin, she doesn’t take the time to explain. Her voice is only a low hiss.

 

     “ Out. ”

 

     Senor Pink doesn’t protest, only wipes his mouth, takes his plate and leaves. And Corazon looks at her, nervous smile playing on her lips, and questioning eyes darting to Doflamingo. 

 

     “ Don’t look at him, look at me, ” she snaps. “ We have to talk. ”

 

     Angry hands shove the crumpled newspaper in his bed, and it’s a cautious hand that retrieves it. The headline stares back at him like an accusation : Trafalgar Law Reclaims Shichibukai Title – 100 Hearts Delivered to the Marines. She waits for him to deny that the little sociopath in training is the kid he spoke so fondly of. Waits for vehement love behind a sure grin. Waits for him to accidentally burn down the newspaper, and laugh it off.

 

     But the silence is confession enough, and so is the worry etched into his face. And when a slow smile makes way on his lips, its bittersweet, regrets and love tightly woven. 

 

     “ He looks like he doesn’t sleep much. 

     - You don’t even care what he did, do you ? ”

 

     He only tears his eyes away from the photo then, thick tears streaming along his face. 

 

     “ I mean, he grew up so well. ”

 

    Fussing mother hen. Almost ready to lecture his kid about eating and resting well. The kid might be almost his age by now. And a fucking warlord now . Absolutely ridiculous. She rubs her temple, trying to gently massaging away her frustration before she barks. But patience never settled long on her face. 

 

     “ You told me he was a good kid ! Is that your—”

 

     A loud laugh cuts open the instant. A pile of pink feathers, shaking from laughter. And Nami is frankly too pissed to deal with him.

 

     “ He really said that ? ” Snickering asshole. “ A good kid, really ? ”

 

     She doesn’t share his hilarity. 

 

     “ Corazon, Corazon, Corazon… ” he chastises, letting the name stretch and curl in his mouth, like he’s savoring the taste of it.“ You didn’t tell her how we met Law ? 

     - Stop talking in circles, ” she groans. “ Or leave. ”

 

     He sits next to Rosinante, takes a plate, and grabs a good rice portion and she groans again. 

 

     “ You interrupted my dinner. Sit. Your antics are entertaining, but I am hungry. ”

 

     She grabs a chair and a plate, rolling her eyes for the sake of it. 

 

     “ Good. Now, Corazon, care to tell her how we really met Law, or should I ? ” 

 

     A stubborn silence. He averts his eyes from her. And Doflamingo fills her plate, playing pretend gentleman. 

 

     “ Right. ” Doflamingo clicks his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “ Maybe you should know that his little sweet baby angel once threatened to blow himself up and take us all down with him if I didn’t let him join the Family.

     - What—

     - Sauce ? ”

 

     Incredulous, she only nods when he drenches her plate in sauce. She blinks slowly, then turns back to Rossinante. He is all sweat and dancing hands around his lighter. He grabs a cigarette, in an attempt to settle his nerves. Without missing a beat, Nami snatches it from his lips and crushes it under her heel. 

 

     “ I told you, he was angry, but I swear to you, he was making progress. 

     - What grand progress.

     - I mean, he is kinda working for the government at least now ? ”

 

     When Doflamingo snickers this time, she can’t even find it in her to blame him. Rosinante is grasping at straws. She narrows her eyes, knife digging into her meat with barely more restraint than she did earlier. 

 

     “ Your good kid is about to become this guy’s colleague . 

     - I’m sure if I could just talk to him—

     - Absolutely not. Remember the last time that bastard riddled you with bullets ? ” She angrily points to Doflamingo, who doesn't flinch, eating without a care in the world.  “ He was putting up a show just to find your protegee. You can’t protect him by staying here, you’re only a weird honey trap to catch the kid. 

     - Law won’t come for me, Nami. He wouldn’t search for me, ” he glances at Doflamingo, victory behind a calm smile. “ Even if you told him you had me, he wouldn’t believe it. ”

 

     He sounds so sure. So peaceful. 

 

     “ He was here when I died. ”

 

     Another silence, this one incredulous. Then, suddenly, a sharp laugh from Doflamingo.

 

     “ In the chest ? ”

     “ In the chest. ”

 

     Doflamingo shakes his head, grinning.

 

     “ We searched everywhere for that little bastard. And he was right under your skull. ”

     There’s something revolting gleaming behind his smile— nostalgia, perhaps. Or something darker. Something more personal. She’s not willing to name it. But Nami has no appetite anymore. She needs a den den mushi. Whether Rosinante likes it or not, she’s getting them out of here .

Notes:

I have a question for the people posting on AO3, do you have any idea how I could make the indentations at the beginning of each paragraph automatically ? I always do them manually, 5 spaces before each paragraph, but with a justified text, the length of the indentations vary, and I hate it :')

But I hate the idea of not putting them, or aligning the text to the left even more infuriating. Any idea how I could fix it ?

Anyway, thanks for reading !

Chapter 21: All the secrets kept between two bookcases

Notes:

I'm so happy I managed to finish this before midnight :')
I had fun with the chapter, less with my upcoming exams. Hope you'll like this week's chapter !

MAY 1523

     Trebol tails her, these days. Can’t hide that revolting trail of mucus he leaves behind him. Most of the time, he can’t be bothered to be subtle about it anyway. Tried, at first. Now, here he is, sitting right in front of her, wiping mucus with his sleeve.

 

     “ Nee, Nami, isn’t it boring ? ”

 

     Rosinante crinkles his nose, disgust plainly written on his face. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, and frankly, Nami shares the sentiment. She doesn't even dignify this with a look, her eyes kept firmly on the pages. She should have picked another book. This one is surely mind-numbingly dry, some old nautical log that she picked up just to have something to read, and to drown out his whining. Doesn’t matter much. Soon enough, he’ll tire of his little surveillance. 

 

     “ You don’t have to be there. 

     - I wanna spend time with you bwehehe…

     - Bullshit. ” She snaps the book shut and finally looks at him, eyes narrowed. “ You don’t like me, and I sure as hell don’t like you. And you are usually quite good at avoiding me. So, what I’m wondering is why you are suddenly so adamant about being glued to my side. 

     - Doffy’s busy, he was worried you’d feel lonely without him, so I volunteered. 

     - Lonely ? Without him ? ”

 

     Rosi and her exchange a perplexed look. Trebol doesn’t elaborate. He just giggles, that grating, nasally sound, rocks back and forth, swinging his arms like some oversized pest. And she might have punched him, if she wasn’t so scared of touching his damn mucus. He is dripping all over the wooden table, all over…

 

     “ Ewww ! My books ! ” She almost slaps his arm away, catching herself at the last second. “ Get out of here you disgusting freak ! You think Doflamingo’s gonna be happy if you ruin another one of his precious books ? ”

 

     Precious leather-bound manuscript. Ruined with his runny nose. And for the first time, Trebol flinches, and backs away in his seat, before rising. 

 

     “ You were both boring anyway ! ”

 

     She might have been relieved when she heard the door slamming. If his dramatic exit didn’t project some more mucus. Right onto her parchment. Disgusting bastard.   Rosinante turns to her, a brilliant smile on his painted lips. 

 

     “ You know, ” he laughs, pretending innocence behind eyes full of mirth, “ if you ever need someone to set him on fire, I’m free most afternoons. 

     - Tempting. ” She snorts, shaking her head. “ But for now, you should focus on not lighting yourself on fire, love. ”

 

     The library’s quiet. Has been since Trebol left. No whining, no sniffling. Only the distant flicker of candlelight and the occasional rustle of turning pages. A single candle flickers, wax dripping all over the desk where Nami sits, hunched over an open book. The nautical log didn’t hold her attention for more than an hour before she almost tore it in frustration. But that large volume on north blue had been … instructive. Records on Fleavance. Tragedy behind a few official marine’s report. Historian retracing lies with an outstanding naivety. Rosinante seems uncomfortable. Lies twisting, dancing with a little boy’s truth in his head. Still, he won’t talk, won’t fill her in more than he already did in a story that’s not his to tell. She knows he feels guilty. She sure would. She has no judgment to offer, no mockery of the way he would damn them both for this kid. But she can’t let him do that. Her fingers trace the yellowed pages absentmindedly, tired eyes skimming the lines. She had been here for hours, absorbed yet restless, waiting. When a shadow finally stretches across her book, and a voice breaks the silence, Nami holds back a smile.

 

     “ I’m surprised you both spend so much time in the library. ”

 

     Gentle voice, cold tilt of her head. Viola. Nami lifted a tired gaze, slow and deliberate, locking eyes with her. She sure expected her to come sooner.

 

     “ Well, that’s pretty much the only way to see you without Doflamingo. ” 

 

     Careful, guarded eyes. Good. She should keep it that way. But Viola sits in front of her all the same, drops a pile of books bigger than she can read in an afternoon on the table. And Nami turns to Rosinante, with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

 

     “ Rosinante, do you think you could make a bubble, only for me and her ? We have a few things to discuss. ” Brief hesitation. She knows how restless he might feel, hiding secrets he won’t even be able to hear. “ But I need you to be able to say you had no idea what we talked about, if you were ever asked. ”

 

     Soon enough, she feels silence, wrapping around them, can’t hear the drumming of Rosinante’s fingers on the wooden table, only the slow breathing of Viola, anxiety kept in a controlled unnecessary whisper : 

 

     “ Why ? 

    - I was hoping you’d think a little about what we talked about last time. ” Stubborn silence. Fine. She can work with that. “ You don’t like him. ”

 

     Excuses, on the tip of Viola’s tongue. She squashes them before they’re even uttered into existence, waves them away with a careless hand.

 

     “ Don’t bother. We went over this last time. You might know everything, but you’re not good enough of an actress to convince me you wouldn’t stab him given the chance. That’s probably why Doflamingo will never give you that chance . You hate him. And that shows. ”

 

     The one who sees it all seems uncomfortable with being seen. And while Nami can surely empathize with her twitching leg, and stiff posture, she can’t allow her to run away, not before making her point. So she drapes the worst scenario in a sickeningly sweet smile. 

 

     “ You think that if you wait long enough, he’ll make a mistake, and someone will get rid of him for you. You sure wouldn’t like it if he were to become immortal. ”

 

     And neither would she. 

 

     “ I need Rosi out of here so that doesn't happen. ”

 

     Silence. Eyes evaluating her, calling out her bluff. Her gaze briefly drifts to Rosinante, and Nami clicks her tongue.

 

     “ Don’t look at him. Look at me. I wouldn’t make Doflamingo an immortal to protect Rosi, hum ? ” Nami scoffs. “ Think again. Given the right circumstances, I would fold. ”

     - That would be stupid. 

     - Maybe. Still, I would. And we are truly lucky that Doflamingo didn’t realize that yet. ”

 

     She sincerely thought she could bear both their suffering, if that meant they would be safe and free, one day. She was wrong. Seeing him get shot for a show sure changed her mind. Most of the time, their life could be pretty peaceful with Doflamingo. He is a maniac, but a busy one. But most of the time won’t cut it. 

 

     “ Are you scared to check if I’m lying ? ” Cocky smile, cockier than she feels. “ I’m not. ”

 

    She doesn't check. Viola remains still. Her fingers tapping against the wooden table, a slow, thoughtful rhythm. Probably an echo to Rosinante’s erratic one. 

 

      “ You’d be damning both of you to an eternity of running from him. It would be far easier to wait for him to die. ”

 

     She can’t say she never thought about it. Some day, the certainty of his mortality is the only thing that keeps her sane. 

 

     “ Yes. But people like him live long. Easily a hundred more years. What if he trapped me in a tower again ? What if he kills Rosi’s protegee in front of him ? What if he took Rosi and cut his body in a thousand pieces, hid it in the whole world, and maybe had me search for his body centuries after he finally died ? If it was only about me, I would deal with whatever he plans for those hundred years. But I can’t be sure of what he’ll do to his brother when he already shot him twice to prove a point. What he does to us leaves a trace, and we’ll be alive forever to bear the weight of his whims. ”

 

     Her hand draped around Rosinante's shoulder, she brings him close to her. Protective embrace, maybe a kitten, but not quite declawed yet. 

 

     “ Go on, ” she presses, voice soft but firm. “ Check what I would do if that was the alternative to having Doflamingo become an immortal. ”

 

     The silence stretches between them, Viola’s expression unreadable. Nami sighs, leaning back into her chair and letting go of the confused blond. She exhaled slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

      “ I need you. I need allies. People who know what’s going on here. And mostly, I need you to make sure Doflamingo won’t see me coming. ”

 

     She gets dials out of her bag, sprawling them on the table. Between experts' hands, she lets them work their magic. A cold breeze. Warmth. And then a fog made of seashells. 

 

     “ I’m still working on this. But between me and Rosinante, we could make the perfect escape. No sound, no silhouette. But I need to make sure I don’t cross the way of someone that could feel our presence. That’s where I need you. I need eyes, all over that land. ”

 

     Viola doesn’t respond, fear plain on her face. Nami exhales sharply.

 

     “ You don’t have to help me if you’re that scared. But I need names. People who will. ”

 

     Viola averts her gaze, remaining silent. Nami sighs, rises, addressing a nod to Rosinante for him to lift the silencing bubble. Sweet, confused Rosinante obeys. But just as she reaches the door, Viola catches her hand and murmurs : 

 

      “ Soon. He’ll leave for a trip. I’ll help you. I just need a little more time. Please. ”

 

     The whisper was almost lost in the stillness. Nami pauses, blinking, before slowly turning back. Then, she smiles, something soft, something almost genuine.

 

     “ When you’re ready, ” Nami whispers, squeezing Viola’s hand once before letting go, “ come find me. ”

 

Notes:

No Doflamingo today, Nami is planning more and more carefully how they can run away from him. Hope you liked it even if he wasn't there, I'll see you next week if my exams don't end up burning me out before that !

Chapter 22: When the cat-spider's away the mice will play

Notes:

Edit from 12.04.2025 :
I'm sorry, I just started an internship, and I work on saturdays now. So I'll have to move the day on which I usually post to either sunday or monday, until june. I wrote half the chapter for tomorrow, but I'm too tired to write more tonight. See you tomorrow !

MAY 1523

     Cold bed. No strings. Free arms. Her hand hesitantly searches for warmth, for the sinking of the mattress next to her. Nothing. He never came back to bed yesterday. Nor did he the day before. It's been a week of rolling around in a gigantic bed, pretending to savour sudden loneliness. She turns around, head buried in fluffy pillows. 

 

     No. This is good . 

 

     An entire week of his absence, and Trebol tailing her so attentively can only mean one thing : he left. Without her. And tried to hide it. Even in the worst of his research, he always slithers in the covers in the dead middle of the night, like a worried spider, fretting about the solidity of his web. She's been free of his strings and his hungry arms for a week. If it had been a short trip, he wouldn’t have bothered to hide it. Two weeks ? Not enough for her to plan, not enough for him to worry. She groans, kicks the heavy covers off of her. They tumble to the floor in a heavy heap, like discarded thoughts. 

 

     Three however ? That, he might do.

 

     She sits up slowly, the sunlight from the balcony painting long lines across her skin. A week of planning lost to her ignorance. All because she didn’t realize soon enough that he was gone. Carefully, she ties the strings of her swimsuit, buttons her shirt, jumps into a short, and takes a hard long look in the mirror. His absence left crevasses on her face. Deep dark circles under her life, thanks to sleepless nights, waiting for him. She rummages around his bathroom. Finds his concealer, in its usual spot. The guy is pretty fussy about something his pink glasses conceal anyway. 

 

     “ That works for me, ” she mumbles as she blends it in under her eyes.

 

     The sponge dabs away her fatigue, but not her bitterness. She needs to paint a mask of patience and charm. A lovely smile made of cherry red lipstick. A deceptive promise between the unbuttoned flaps of her shirt. The stings of her swimsuit draped around the nape of her neck. Tousled hair, long eyelashes, and a pretty trap ready. And before she puts away her lipstick, she drags it along the mirror, forming letters quickly. Viola. Viola. Viola. She’s on her ninth line when a voice echoes in her head.

 

     “ What are you doing ? ”

 

     Suspicion, annoyance, in a pretty low voice. It feels like an echo, tumbling in her head with her own thoughts. Unpleasant, but oh so convenient.

 

     “ I knew you were spying on me ! 

     - That’s part of my job. ” No apology, no softer edge. Nami expected that. “ You said you would give me time. ”

 

     She did. She thought she would.

 

     “ And you said once he left you would help. You knew he had already left. ” Accusation in a softer tone than she hoped. “ How often do you think he leaves Dressrosa without me ? Could be years before he does that again. ”

 

     Hesitation in Viola’s silence, a confession that she always knows way more than Nami ever will. 

 

     “ He will be back soon. Another week at most. That’s not enough to properly plan—

     - I won’t let this opportunity go. You can help me, or you can wait and see how I’ll do on my own. Probably won’t be pretty. ”

 

     Stubborn silence.

 

     " At least, I need a time, and a place. I'm sure you know what would be easier. "

 

      She never knew before how a sigh would feel inside her head. She does now.

 

     " South harbor, 15h. The guards are sloppy, and they usually change shift around this time. If you knock them out, you have a whole hour of peace.

     - Thank you, I knew I could count on you. "

 

     Something feels like a laugh, tightly kept between pursed lips. Something like reluctant amusement, worry and admiration woven together. 

 

     “ I’ll contact the tontattas. Please give me three days. ”

 

     Silence suddenly tastes sweet in her head.

 

     As soon as she steps out of the room, Trebol is here, a grotesque mess of mucus and devotion, leaking mucus all over the floor. 

 

     “ Doffy is too busy to go on a little date with you, bwehehehe… ”

 

     She gives him a flat look, then pastes on a lazy smile.

 

     “ It's hot today. I'll go swimming. Or do I need your chaperonage for that too ? ” 

 

     He sniffles, but doesn't follow her. Weirdly enough, Trebol is not the biggest fan of water. The mucus doesn't agree with it too much, and the shrimp hates showing his body. Enough to keep him away from her. By the time he finds someone else to keep an eye on her, she will be done. So she hops into the water, drench herself, hoping that might buy her time. The pool is certainly not the best place for her plan. Too many almost naked bodies, not enough pockets to search. But she slithers around men and women all the same, charming them with teasing hands, brushing along their back, smiles caressing their ego. And soon enough, she finds one. An idiot that came only to relax and take the sun. Tanned skin exposed to show off his efforts. Jeans and shirts left, unsupervised, next to a sunbed. She waves a careless conversation as he closes his eyes to take in the sun, and as her hands digs into his pocket. Bingo. In her hands, a den den mushi. In one swift motion, she palms it and tucks it beneath her damp shirt, the snail’s shell cool against her sternum, and before the idiot can bore her to sleep with some weather talk, she is out of here. 

 

     The chlorine clinging to her skin buys her an excuse for her to go and take a bath. At least one hour of peace. Especially since not even Trebol would dare to enter Doflamingo's private apartment and drip mucus all over the marble floor. 

 

     Cautiously, she lets the water run as she takes the den den mushi out of her shirt. As she instructs it with an old den den mushi number, she can only pray for the stubbornness that comes with age, the refusal for anything new. Den den mushi included. 

 

     “ Yes ? ” 

 

     Gruff voice, almost forgotten, older. A silence, for her to compose herself, for him to lose patience. 

 

     “ Sengoku here, who are you ? 

     - Rosinante is alive. ” 

 

     Another silence, this time for him to compose himself, for her to lose patience. 

 

     “ We need help to extract him from Dressrosa. ”

 

     This time, the silence between them is one of defiance, and she can’t blame him for that. It feels like a sick joke, like agitating a ghost to get a rise out of an old marine. Her voice is still too young for her to remind him of the day she left Rosi to him. There is no way he would buy that the kid on the phone with him is the one that handed him Rosi something like thirty years ago. But it is similar enough. 

 

     “ If this is a joke—

     - You knew my mom, ” she whispers. 

 

     This is embarrassing. 

 

     “ Heard she broke into your office, and left Rosi into your care. ”

 

     It’s been years. That conversation is a blur now, like a dream recalled through fog— half-remembered phrases and the cracking of her voice when she said I promise . Sengoku won’t answer. He’s too careful for that. Still sharp enough to see traps where there might be none. Still trained to hesitate, to dissect every word. A lifetime of war and politics has made him a man who studies silence like a language. But silence can still be broken. So she adds another nail to the coffin. Softer than the blow she strikes. Almost like a confession. 

 

     “ She hoped you would be able to keep him far from Doflamingo, after what he did to his father. Always knew that being family didn’t mean he would ever be safe from him … ” 

 

     She hesitates. And before she can contain them, words tumble out of her mouth, memories on the tip of her tongue. 

 

     “ Safe was better than anything she could offer him. Thought you could. ”

 

     A sob. She knows he recognized the words as soon as she hears it. He didn't forget. And the den den mushi lets out a stuttering sob. Sengoku’s breath catches on old promises and even older regrets.

 

     “ I'm sor—

     - I'm not blaming you. ” She’s cutting off guilt before it has a chance to take root. “ He wanted to go on this mission. Wanted you to be proud of him, wanted to make sure you knew how grateful he was for everything you did. What happened after that was out of your hands. I'm only saying I'm not trying to trick you. He’s alive. He’s really alive. And if we don’t act now, we might lose him again. ”

 

     She grips the snail tighter. 

 

     “ I’m not asking for war. I’m asking for extraction. Just one ship. One chance.”

 

     Steam fogs the room now. The bath has long overflowed. She doesn’t care. The line crackles faintly. A shift. Then, finally :

 

     “ Where ? When ? ”

 

     She smiles, slow and relieved. 

 

     “ In three days, 15h. South harbor. Doflamingo is away, and he usually uses the east one. From what I gathered, he won’t be back for a few more days. I’ll make sure to get Rosinante there, you just need to take him away from here. ”

 

     A low hum. Agreement. It’s not a promise, but it’s close enough. The den den mushi clicks off. She stands in the steam for a long moment, hand still clutched around the snail.

Notes:

Edit from 12.04.2025 :
I'm sorry, I just started an internship, and I work on saturdays now. So I'll have to move the day on which I usually post to either sunday or monday, until june. I wrote half the chapter for tomorrow, but I'm too tired to write more tonight. See you tomorrow !

Chapter 23: The great vanishing act- Act II

Notes:

I'm sorry, this chapter is a little late, like I said Friday, I started an internship this week. Thought I would be able to write, but it seems like I'll need to post on Sundays or Mondays now, and until June. I'm hoping after that, during the summer holidays, I'll be able to post two chapters a week, but we'll see.

MAY 1523

     “ So … hum … ”

 

    An hesitation, head cocked to the side, crouching in an attempt to see eye to eye with them. Quite the useless endeavor ; they barely reach her ankle. Viola can’t be serious. She wouldn’t have called her in the middle of the night for such a ridiculous prank. Some make believe soldiers, helmets crafted from thimbles and tiny buttons shields… 

 

     “ Please be respectful, they came here to help you.

     - Easy, Viola. I simply wasn’t expecting that. ” 

 

     She chews on diplomacy, and crafts an hesitant smile to the overeager creatures. 

 

     “ They are just … so small. 

     - But mighty ! ”

 

     One of the little fairies steps forward proudly, a piece of toothpick slung over his shoulder like a spear. Trebol will eat them up like appetizers. Won’t leave a crumb. And Nami can rationalize sacrificing some lives to protect the world from Doflamingo ever obtaining immortality. But she can’t let innocent idiots sacrifice themselves on a mission they will fail anyway. Most of their people were already sacrificed to a man’s ambition, but still, they welcome her small revolt with a charming smile. Fools. Worse. Gentle fools. 

 

     “ They are perfect for this. I would take you to see them in action if I could, but getting you out of the palace these days is a little too challenging. You’ll have to trust my words. ”

 

     She heard Baby 5 complaining enough about them to believe her. They are good thieves, that, she can respect. But horrible liars. And the proud Leo is clearly not that good of a thief for her to trust him with truth that could hurt her when someone inevitably catches him. She caught him before he could take her bracelets after all. So she delivers as little intel as she can, hoping instructions are clear enough for them not to question anything. They never do. Never ask why she might want to run. Why the marine might care if Rosinante gets out of here or not. Trusting fools.

 

     “ They’ve done more damage to the Family than most pirates have managed head-on. ” Viola adds, eyes lidded with annoyance. “ They might not seem like much for you, but you asked for allies, and trust me, they are your best bet. ”

 

     And soon, her doubts are drowned in whispers, foolish enthusiasm and hopeless ambitions. So Nami takes a deep breath, and allows herself to hope. 

 

     “ Ok. What’s the plan ? ”

 

    Viola smiles. The plan comes together like threads on a loom—each piece delicately interwoven, but vulnerable to even the smallest tug. She can’t let them fail. Four steps for them to be free. 

 

      One . 4 AM. The decoy. 

     Nami traps her voice in a sea-shell, hopes that the echo won’t be too distant. For hours, she talks. About useless shit. Worthless memories. Things Doflamingo won’t be able to use against her, if he ever tried to listen to her rambling. The way the ancient ones in her island used to say she would never leave their land. Their belittlement. The old leathery voice nagging her not to listen to them. Not to trade her dreams for their routine. Stories of people long gone, their bones gnawed at by hungry animals, whose bones themselves were dust too by now. 

 

     She weaves her hair and stories between careful hand and tongue coated lead. She plays pretend, embodies vulnerability only when the silence is the only one listening. Viola will hear too, when she’ll come, at noon. It doesn’t matter, there is not much to hide in front of these eyes that see it all. Viola will fill silences, making them believe that right now, the trembling voice they hear coming from the almost empty apartments is about Nami finally opening up, accepting her place. All the while, she will be leaving it as the skypiea dial sings. And when at noon, she drapes a cloak around her, leaves the dial nestled under embroidered cushions, Viola enters, and so begins the deception’s song.

 

     “ The woman you told me about last time, Baha, right ? ” Viola asks, eyes fixed on her as Nami clicks on the dial to get it to sing. “ Do you think she would be happy that you left ?

     - She always wanted me to be free. Where and how did not matter that much. ”

 

    The seashell’s echo was almost perfect. Nami never had to open her mouth to respond. She was gone before the door closed behind Viola. 

 

     Two . 12 PM. Fetching Rosinante. 

     Feathery steps. They can’t see her, but they could hear her. Too bad for them, Nami grew lighter on her feet each time the sound of her steps almost killed her in the name of a man’s greed. And before she covered Arlong in gold, she drenched herself in her own blood more than once. Arlong isn’t that much different from Doflamingo. They both think they can take part of her for themselves if they threaten what’s more precious to her than gold. They should have kept it hidden better. Because Rosinante’s only guard is an overgrown baby, taking a nap in front of his chamber’s door. 

 

     Mh. The tontattas are good. Their first mission was a success. They stole Senor Pink’s pacifier. Coated it in some sleeping drugs. And now, here he is, snoring in the corridor. Poor guy. Doflamingo will chew him up when he learns about it. Gently, she pushes the door, sees Rosinante jumps a little, and holds back a giggle. 

 

     “ Rosi, it’s Nami. We’re getting out of here. 

     - What do you mean ?

     - Shhh. Bubble. We’ll talk after that. ”

 

    Only when she feels the comforting silence enveloping her she grabs him by the arm, and tinkle with the dials to extend her illusion to him. It’s a bit delicate to cover such a large man. Rosinante asks no question, only waits for her to raise her head to him, with a blinding smile.

 

     “ Doflamingo is away. Took Diamante with him apparently. When are we going to have such an opportunity again ? I contacted Sengoku. Now that your little protegee is a Shichibukai, I’m sure you’ll have no issue contacting him as soon as we’re safe ! ”

 

     She’s not that sure of that. But she needs him to follow her without getting distracted by what could happen to his little protegee. And if the way his eyes gleam a little brighter when she mentions Law makes her feel a little guilty, Nami doesn’t back down. 

 

     “ We have three hours to get to the south harbor. But we have to move really slowly. You need to stick to my sides for the illusion to work. And we cannot afford to hit anything. No people, no walls, do you understand ? ” She grabs his cheeks, and presses. “ Walk slowly, watch your steps, and please, I beg of you, don’t trip.

     - I’m not that clumsy. 

     - Trust me, you are. ”

 

      Step 3. 2 PM. Trebol’s distraction. 

     Little soldiers, ready to die for someone they met at midnight. They are growing whispers in the alleys, dispersing in organized chaos. First group handles Donquixote officers, stealing their weapons, making them run like fools. Wires tangled, doors jammed, personal effects vanished. They trained their whole life for these kinds of things ; sowing confusion like confetti. A snoozing officer awakens to find his munitions replaced with marshmallows. Another loses his belt and his pants to the trickster creatures. And then there is the second group. Their best, for the most perilous mission they ever attempted : stealing Trebol’s keys to the toy’s factory, before he goes and finds Sugar. 

 

     “ Keys on the desk. ” Leo notes, quick eyes assessing the toy’s house. “ He’s awake. Kabu, change of plan, we sneak into the toy’s cart. ”

 

     A brief hesitation, sweaty hands gripping his weapons of choice, Kabu whispers.

 

     “ Isn’t it dangerous ?

     - Come on, we’re brave ! And that’s exactly why it will work ! Team 2, let’s go ! ”

 

     Hiding in a mist of broken toys feels more revolting than they expected. But silence and stealth is their only chances against such a monster as Trebol. So they stay silent as a huffing toy gets them closer and closer to their goal. As the cart rolls past Trebol, two Tontattas leap silently out of it, and search for keys. Any keys. And soon enough they vanish into the air vents, holding the golden keys like a trophy. What they didn’t expect was for the entire factory to be on alert within minutes. Sirens screech. Foot soldiers scramble. And only when Trebol screams echoes in the whole factory, and they take a better look at the keys they stolen they realize that they might have fucked up. A bit.

 

     “ Find me those filthy little bug-eyed rats ! NOW ! ”

 

     2 : 30 PM. Rosinante actually handles it well, all the way to the Coliseum, even as the crowd grows dense. She has to grab this big guy once or twice on some steep stairs, but all things considered, he is doing pretty ok. Until a screech, a familiar scream. And soon, the streets are filled with running soldiers, panicked goons, running to the Coliseum. This was not the plan.

 

     “ What’s happening ?

    - No idea. ” Her eyes scan the crowd for a clue. Any clue. “ They are supposed to run to the toy’s factory. The point was to get them far from here. I don’t understand. ”

 

     She grabs Rosinante, her grip fiercer, hiding shaky hands behind an iron fist. They seem to be heading to the Coliseum. If they go a little further west than planned, they might be able to get away from them. But that might make them late, considering how slow they need to be for her to hide them well. Finding deserted alleys proves harder and harder. And soon, they are swarmed with more of the Family’s members than with civilians. Fuck. 

 

     2 : 30 PM. 

 

     “ These little rats. Finally caught them. ” Slimy hands, closing on them. “ We have a lot to talk about, nee ? You better start talking fast, before I start asking Sugar to get rid of some of your little friends in the SMILE factory. ”

 

 

     Step 4. 2 : 45 PM. The rendez-vous. 

 

     “ I’ll need to lift the illusion in a bit. As soon as we find the marine’s ship. 

     - Nami, are you ok ? ”

 

     She raises her head to him, confused, before he envelopes her trembling hands in his own. She can’t help but search for spiders, all around her, like she did more than a year ago when he caught her. They could crawl here before they found the ship, and the whole operation would be ruined. They could—

 

     “ It’s gonna be okay. Let’s find them. ”

 

    Fishermen ship. Tourists. And a plain old ship.  Ordinary to the eye, but immediately, Rosinante locks eyes with this one, and points to the marine sigil etched beneath the paint. A lone man waits, hands on his saber. Hope, hope is a scrawny man, with an impatient frown and twitchy hands.

 

     So Nami lifts the mirage tempo. Let them appear. She could point the exact moment when the marine spotted them. The smallest smile on a burly face. Words, almost uttered. She takes a step. And then she sees it. A flicker of motion at the far end of the docks. Trebol. Dragging a bloodied Tontatta in his hand, face twisted in a rage not even his mucus could drown. He knows. Somehow, he knows. Blabbering gentle souls. Nami’s heart seizes. If Trebol looks toward the ship, spot them, he’d drown them all with no hesitation.

 

     So she acts fast. 

 

     She shoves Rosinante into the marine’s arms. 

 

     “ Go. Get him out of here. 

     - Wait— what are you doing ?

 

     Oh poor Rosi. Hope crushed under her heels as she turns her back to them. She tries to instill a smile in a voice, even as she bites back a sob.

 

     “ Buying you time. ”

 

     And then, she casts a dense fog, and runs in the opposite directions, to an merchants ship, shouting as if to invisible allies : 

 

     “ Cast off, now ! We’re not waiting ! ” 

 

    Trebol’s eyes snap to her. She makes a show of climbing the skiff, pretending to fumble with the controls. He snarls, oozing toward her, mucus dripping in his stead.

 

     “ Thought you could sneak out, ne ? Oh Doffy will be so pissed at you ! ”

 

     She might retch when he traps her in his mucus, and soon enough, the sky's the only thing she can see. Blue. So blue. And when Trebol looms over her, casts his shadow all over her, and throws her over his shoulder, in his back, briefly, she can see it. Out in the mist, the marine vessel begins to move, quiet, unnoticed. Trebol searches every cabin on that poor merchants’ ship. Nothing. 

 

     “ Where is the other bastard ? ” Trebol seethes, tightening his grip. “ Ne, where is he ?! ”

 

     She only laughs. The marine’s ship is only a dot in the horizon now. He’s safe. Soon enough, she’ll run too. There is nothing to keep her here now. Not uncertainty, not fear of Doflamingo hurting Rosi. Soon, soon she’ll be free.

 

    Gentle, loving hands, massaging her wrists, and a smile so soft she might barf. Doflamingo doesn't fit in the damp cell where Trebol threw her days ago. His gentleness is insulting. 

 

     “ You must be so tired. All that flailing around. You used to plan your escapes more carefully than that. How long did you have to craft your little trick, hum ? Two days ? You did so good, it’s almost a shame Trebol caught you, we could have used a little game of cat and mouse. ”

 

     He crouches beside her, his hand, caressing her hair, his fucking smile still so soft, and his voice barely over a whisper.

 

     “ It keeps things interesting. But I can’t have you run around like that, not without a guarantee that you’ll always come back to me . ”

 

      Damn right. Now, he has nothing. Give her a month, she’ll get out of here.

 

     “ Luckily, I knew you would get antsy sooner or later. So I already prepared a gift, a little friend to keep you company. Diamante, bring him in. ” 

 

     Black hair. Black eyes. No. 

 

     “ He was quite hard to catch. But you know I’d do anything for you, hum ? ”

 

      Ace. Fiery eyes. Rage kept behind lips that he chewed until they bled. 

 

     “ So … Was it worth it, Nami ? ”

 

    Bloodied arms. Strings digging in his skin, guiding each of his steps. The kid of the fallen pirate king, merely a puppet in Doflamingo’s hold.

 

     “ I’ll find a new leash for each you tear apart. So go ahead and try Nami. Let’s see who I’ll have to use next to make you fall in line. ”

 

      Fuck.

 

Notes:

Fun fact : Nami wasn't supposed to save Ace in the first version of the story, and even in my planning for this second version, it wasn't planned. But initially, the Dressrosa arc was supposed to be pretty much the same as in canon— except for Nami and Rosinante, obviously. Ace being alive here changed a few things for me.

In the same way, they were both supposed to fail their escape. But I looked at my planning, and Rosinante wasn't that relevant for a while, so I let Nami have this small victory. That will allow me to focus more on the relationship between Doflamingo and Nami for a while anyway. I'm quite impatient for the next few chapters. I'll see you next week !

Chapter 24: Guilt and salvation

Notes:

Ok, this chapter took me an eternity and it certainly didn't go in the way I had planned, but I had so much fun writing it, I hope you will enjoy it !

Edit from 28.04 : Sorry, no chapter this week, i'm a bit late on my planning to write my master's thesis, and I can't quite focus on writing the chapter because of that :')

JUNE 1498

     Black hair, black eyes. Deep dark circles, devouring his face. More livid than he ever was. He looks like hell, and sounds even worse. Even his once booming laugh is now akin to a cough. And they all drink the sorrow away, drown grief that’s to come in cheap laughter. She can’t stand it. So when Roger goes and hides below the deck, in a quiet cabin only lit by candles, on pads of velvet quiet, she shadows him. When he coughs in a cloth that comes away stained red, she groans. 

 

    “ You’re worse today. ”

 

     He doesn’t startle. Never does. Easy smile, easy lie.

 

     “ I was worse yesterday. I’m getting better. 

     - I have no patience for your bullshit. 

     - Wouldn’t expect you to. ” He tosses the cloth onto the bedside table, as careless with it as with his upcoming doom. “ I’m fine, you know I would never crook before seeing the end of a last adventure. ”

 

     Once upon a time, Nami was made of the same eagerness, draped all around her. Bold smile, bold soul. But time makes ghosts out of people. And she has been haunting this world for far too long to let go of the few things that make her feel alive.

 

     “ You don’t have to die, it’s ridiculous. Do you want to have us see you die ?

     - We’ve talked about this, I don’t want to be trapped in  an endless echo of what I used to be. You think immortality is mercy, but I’ve seen what it’s done to you.” 

 

     She looks away. He doesn't let her. Rough hands, gently guiding her cheeks, facing her with more seriousness than he’s used to. 

 

     “ When I met you, you had forgotten how to rest, how to laugh. That’s not life, that’s—

     - Survival,” she finishes, all harsh lines across her face. “ I didn’t get to choose—.”

     - I know, Nami. ” Soft, careful whispers over an old wound. “ And maybe that’s why you’re so desperate to give it meaning. But I wouldn’t be able to help you do that. ”

 

     The silence is weighed by all the stories she once shared with him. There is no taking them back, no way to sell him the illusion that eternity could be his solution. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. The creak of the ship, the far-off drunken songs of his men, the lull of the sea—they all fill the space where her words should’ve gone. 

 

     “ Someday, someone’s gonna shake the world harder than I ever could. I don’t want to be in their way just because I was too stubborn to die.

     - You’re afraid of becoming irrelevant ? ” She scoffs. “ You ? ”

 

     She expects him to cast her worries aside with a booming laugh. But his dark eyes are as deep as the bottom of the ocean, as deep as the void that swallows all hopes. 

 

    “ No, ” he finally says. “ I have to leave so they can be free. Free to hate me, love me, surpass me— whatever they want. I’m asking you to go, Nami. ”

 

     There is a silence between them— long, cold, bitter.

 

     “ If you die, ” she murmurs, “ you’ll leave a hole no one can fill. ”

 

     He smiles. Brighter than the sun. It hurts. It hurts so much.

 

     “ Then I hope someone tries. ”

 

     She stares at him— his broken body, his impossible peace— and feels the ache split open inside her again.

 

     “ You’re a damn fool.

     - I’ve been worse things. ”

 

     She turns away from him, storms in her chest, and walks out the door before she could do something stupid. Like beg. Or stay. Outside, the drunken songs are only loud snores by now. Salt on her tongue. The scent of the sea. So Nami does what she did all her life. She leaves, without goodbyes, without turning back. That night, her bed stays cold. By morning, the lifeboat is gone.

 

JUNE 1523

     Nami awakes like she is drowning. No scream, no whimper, only her throat closed around a breath she can’t take. Silk wrapped around her wrists, her waist, her thigh— not tight, just possessive. Casual. A familiar weight draped behind her, breath ghosting against her neck. Doflamingo’s arm slung across her waist like he owns her sleep. No. She needs air. Needs space. Silence. But the strings just shift softly, adjusting to her panic, like a shared breath. 

 

     “ Get off me. ”

 

     Her voice is low. Raw. 

 

     “ Stop pretending to sleep. Get your damn strings off me, Doflamingo. ”

 

     He opens an amused eye, exhales through his nose. Half a chuckle, half annoyance. But the strings slither back. He withdraws his arms and leans against the bedpost instead, all teeth and jokes she’s not privy to.

 

     “ Bad dream, sweetheart ? ” A stubborn silence, made of glares and frowns.  “ Come on, don’t be so pissed. A little string to hold you down, what’s the harm ? You sleep better when you don’t have to pretend you’re in control anyway. ”

 

     She doesn’t dignify his snickering with a response, she’s already crossing the room, barefoot, draped in little dignity and an even thinner nightdress. The air in the room tastes like candle wax and regret. She can’t stand it. Won’t. So she slams the bathroom door behind her. The tap screeches as she twists it, and cold water hits her face. 

 

     “ Still sulking over the Fire Fist brat ? Get over it. ” A pause. “ I locked him up. He’s mostly fine. I have no reason to tug on your new leash if you play nice. After all, I didn’t hurt Corazon much, hum ?

     - You shot him. ”

 

     He laughs—a real laugh, low and almost amused. 

 

     “ And he was fine. This is ridiculous. Look, I knew you’d try to smuggle Corazon out eventually. You’re predictable when you get sentimental. So I found a replacement leash. Simple risk management. And my timing was excellent ! ”

 

     Her grip tightens around the sink. 

 

     “ Or maybe it’s more about the brat’s father ? ” She freezes. “ It’s been more than twenty years now. Don’t you think it’s time you get over it ? What did he give you, really ? Some good memories ? A seat at the edge of glory ? ”

 

     She throws the door open, hitting him square in the nose with it.

 

     “ He trusted me.

     - And yet you left him. You always do. ”

 

     The words cut. He sees it. And he presses harder, smiling even as his nose bleeds.

 

     “ You want comfort, Nami ? ” He towers over her, not even faking gentleness in his hands as they cup her face. “ I can give it. You want pain ? I can do that, too. But guilt ? Come on. That’s boring . You think you can make amends for leaving when it got tough by caring for his brat ? Well you’re twenty years too late. ”

 

     She slaps him. Hard. The sound echoes in the room. He turns his head slowly back to her. Smiling. Licks the blood leaking from his nose. Disgusting b astard . 

 

     “ There she is. ”

 

     He is all ruffled feathers and delicious hunger. 

 

     “ You don’t want guilt, Nami. You want absolution. But no one’s going to give it to you. They can’t. The men you really wronged are already dead . ”

 

     His voice, a whisper made of barbed wire.

 

     “ Except me. ”

 

     She stares at him. Silent. 

 

     “ I am one of the only ones that will ever be able to tell you what you yearn for. ” He steps closer. “ Not that kid who never even knew you were supposed to care for him. ” Closer. “ Not Rosinante who chose to die for a brat he hardly knew. ” Closer . “ Me . You left me. ”

 

     There are words on the tip of her tongue. Painful history, stuck in her throat. A tower made of strings in the middle of nowhere in North Blue. Bold lies. Vain pleas. Silence. 

 

     “ You love painting me as the villain, don’t you ? The monster who locked you away in a tower. But there was a time we were close. I never hurt you, Nami. Not once. You’re the one who slithered off in the dead of night. And for what? One tiny omission ?

     - You tricked me. You knew who I was. From the beginning. And you used it.

     - We already had that discussion, and it was ridiculous then, it’s still ridiculous now. Face it— you didn’t leave because I tricked you or because you felt betrayed. You left because you started to care. And so you did what you always did, just like you did with Roger : you ran. You’re always waiting for an excuse to bolt. Except I didn’t let you run. ”

 

     Trembling hands, grinding teeth and curled fists. Nami can recognize the rage that made a home out of her a long time ago. The indignation that shadowed each of her steps. But there is something alien in the hollow voice that whispers, almost as fragile as glass : 

 

     “ You put a leash on me.

     - And you wore it so well. ”

 

     He wears a grotesque mockery of sympathy on a thin smile. Gentle hands brush her cheek, more threat than touch. 

 

     “ If I always need a leash to keep you from running again, you know I’ll wrap it around your throat with a smile. ”

 

     He tilts her chin up with two fingers, a beast made of fangs and hunger. 

 

     “ Don’t act like I dragged you into this. You stayed back then. You chose me until the moment you got scared. Not because I asked for forever— because you were afraid you’d give it. And not even because I asked. Only because you could not bear to be alone once more. ”

 

     It rarely hits her how tall he is, how he towers over her, engulfs her in his shadow. It does now, as he corners her against the bathroom door. 

 

     “ If I only wanted you for immortality, I could break you. It would take less than an afternoon for me to rip eternity from your hands. But I want you. You’re mine. ” 

 

     He reaches out again, calloused fingers ghost the edge of her jaw, trailing down her throat. Not holding her. Just feeding her shivers with the idea of what could come next. Violence, or hollow tenderness.

 

     " You could run. Scream. Punch me. But you won’t. You never do when it’s like this.

     - It’s useless. You confuse want with control, that would only turn you on more. 

     - No. ” Sharper smile, tearing in her defenses. “ You do. ”

 

     His fingers caress her waist, almost gentle. Almost reverent. But his eyes never soften behind pink glasses.

 

     “ I always hoped one day, you’d come back on your own. 

     - I never did. Never will.

    - No. ” He tilts his head on the side, his nose brushing against hers “ But you never really left, not while I had a good enough leash. But that’s the only thing keeping you from freaking out. Call it a cage, call it love. I don’t care. The truth is that you’re quite comfortable here. But that scares you. You need me to keep you still, so that you don’t agonize over the fact you want to be here . With me. ”

 

     A moment, their breaths are almost one. Lips inches apart. There is something revolting in the way she can feel the strange anticipation creeping inside of her ribcage. She names it anxiety. Because naming it anything else would be a betrayal of years of running. Because she hates him. Because—

 

     “ This means nothing.

     - Keep telling yourself that. ”

 

     Cocky smile. Laughing eyes. And before she can process it, he lunges. The kiss is made of nostalgia and resentment. Violent. Needy. Desire tangling with hate. Her fingers dig into his coat, ruffling feathers, and pulling him closer. His dig into her waist. It’s a bruising kiss, a punishing one. There is no softness— only fury and hunger, woven so tightly they are indistinguishable. One arm clamped around her waist, the other tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to deepen the kiss with something closer to vengeance than desire. She bites his lip. He laughs into her mouth. Teeth scraping, lips colliding, breath stolen. Nails digging in his chest, threads digging in her back, keeping her here, close, almost against his chest. And then, his lips are exploring her neck, trailing it with marks. Until he bites. Hard enough to almost break skin. 

 

     She gasps, tries to pull away— but he holds her there, just a beat too long, licking the red circle on her neck. She shoves him again, harder this time, and this time he lets her, his carnivorous smile bigger than the world. 

 

     “ I hate you.

     - Liar. ”

 

     She fucked up.

 

      “ I told you. You keep reaching for ghosts, but I’m the only one left who can give you absolution anyway. ”

 

     A pause. He studies her like he’s amused, like her guilt, her embarrassment is entertainment. A breath, then softer—mocking almost tenderness. 

 

     “ And I would. If you just stopped plotting new ways to abandon me again long enough to ask. ”

 

     He steps back, his voice lowers to something intimate when he spreads his arms like a priest offering salvation.

 

     “ Don’t you want to hear it ? ”

 

     A beat. He closes his arms on her. Traps her with a gentleness that feels alien. Then, in the shell of her ears, almost tenderly, he whispers—

 

     “ I forgive you. ”

 

     A choked sob escapes her throat. He swallows it in another devouring kiss.

 

Notes:

A little fun fact, they weren't supposed to kiss at all in this chapter. And we were supposed to see Ace a little. Then I started writing, and the whole guilt thing hit me. It was already pretty prevalent in the way I write Nami here. She feels she let down Rosi, Belmer, and even Roger. But she never took much time to consider if she might have abandonned Doflamingo. To be fair, in my opinion, she only protected herself by leaving. But Doflamingo wasn't about to let go a good opportunity to manipulate her.

Edit from 28.04 : Sorry, no chapter this week, i'm a bit late on my planning to write my master's thesis, and I can't quite focus on writing the chapter because of that :')
On another topic, I'm kinda surprised by the lack of reaction on this chapter, did you not like it ? I was kinda scared the kiss might come from nowhere, but it felt natural while I was writing it, and I'm kinda second guessing myself now ? I'm sorry if it feels whiny, it's simply that your reactions are sometimes what shape the story, and I feel like that's the fun part of writing here usually. Anyway, see you next week !