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Nami’s head was burning. She somehow felt both freezing and on fire. Her breathing was labored and ragged. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Her eyes were closed, but the way her head felt, she didn’t risk opening them. Were they on an island? Why was the ground so soft? Why was she on the ground? Blurred, jumbled images flashed through her mind as she fought her way back to consciousness. The giants assisting their escape from Little Garden, her fever and collapse, Vivi’s decision to find a doctor before heading to Alabasta… Her mind sharpened at the thought of Vivi. With some effort, Nami finally opened her eyes.
She was in her bed on board the Merry. A chair had been placed at the bedside. The crew must have been taking turns watching over her, but no one was here now. Her vision swam, making her dizzy. She shut her eyes tightly, pressing her palms to them, but it didn’t make a difference. The fever was making her feel foggy and slow. With a huff, she buried her head back into her pillow. Now that she was awake, guilt started to gnaw at her. Because of her, the crew was sailing around blindly hoping to find a doctor instead of bringing Vivi home to Alabasta. Because of her, Vivi’s people could be suffering right now. Because of her, Vivi was in pain. Nami felt tears threatening to spill over and willed them away. She couldn’t let the crew see her cry right now. They already thought she was dying. She needed to be strong, both so she could heal faster and get their quest underway, and so she could be the support she knew Vivi needed. Laying in the dark quiet of her room, the gentle swaying of the ship lulled her into an uneasy rest as Vivi’s name reverberated in her mind.
Nami had, of course, been sick before. The worst had been when she’d had the flu when she was 6. Bellemere and Nojiko had done their best to care for her, feeding her soup and keeping her temperature down with cold towels. There was plenty to hate about it - the sluggish mind, the body aches - but her least favorite part had been the dreams. Fever had a way of making dreams feel more real than reality, and there were some things buried deep in her subconscious that she would rather not confront. These were the thoughts buzzing around the edge of Nami’s mind as she slipped seamlessly into the darkness of sleep.
The dream began as many of her dreams did. She was back in the map room. It felt impossibly big, much larger than it was in reality, more like how she saw it as a young girl. Dread gripped her, pulling at the loose strands of her anxiety and threatening to unravel her. Her hands were chained to the desk in front of her, and though she didn’t look, she knew the tattoo on her left arm would once again be the symbol of the Arlong pirates. She looked around for something steadying, something to ground her. She studied the maps on the wall. Her maps, the ones she had drawn for Arlong, but none of them made sense to her now. The lines were all wrong, the letters jumbled, and the compass symbol in the corner seemed to rotate as she watched. Willing herself not to tremble, she pulled her eyes from the walls and let them fall to the desk.
Before her was an unfinished map. Several incomplete copies of the same one - at least she thought they were the same map, though the shapes seemed to shift if she looked too hard - littered the desk, some crumpled, others piled into messy stacks. Every single one of them was covered in drops of blood and wet spots that she knew were from her tears. Nami flinched at the sight of them. Her chest grew tighter with every second, and the wheezing of her sleeping body made her feel as though she was drowning. She watched herself pick up the pen, saw the sores on her hands from countless hours of overworking them. She was unable to stop herself from attempting to finish the map. Pen touched paper, the strokes forming coastlines in seconds. Nami tried to place the island she was drawing, but still everything looked wrong. The cracked skin of her fingers split and spilled bright red droplets onto her island, carving a river through the ink. Another copy ruined, more hours of work added back onto the pile. The cold hand of fear closed around her again, and she was suffocating. She picked up the map and tore it to shreds, crying out in frustration and pain. She pulled against her restraints, kicked at the desk, and screamed, though only a weak, pained whimper escaped her.
“Nami?” It was Vivi’s voice. She would know that voice anywhere. Nami whirled around to find her, but she didn’t see anyone. “Nami, don’t worry. We’re getting you some help. You’ll be okay soon.” The voice sounded strangely intimate, like Vivi was right next to her.
“Vivi?” Nami said with considerable effort. It felt like her mouth had been stuffed with cotton balls. She pulled frantically at her restraints, trying to get away from here, trying to get to her. The cuffs cut painfully into her wrists as she strained against them. “Vivi, please don’t go!”
The silence was deafening. The map room had never been so quiet. She could feel it pressing in on her, the walls seeming to close in around her as if the silence was a physical pressure. No, wait - the walls were closing in on her! As she looked around the room, the space changed shape and size, but the walls only seemed to move while just beyond her sight. The room was now small enough that she could reach out and touch all four walls from her seat at the desk. In a few moments, she was sure to be crushed to death. She heard Arlong laughing from somewhere, though she couldn’t tell if it came from beyond her room or if it was just in her head. Nami curled up on her chair, making herself as small as possible, feeling as vulnerable as she had when she’d joined Arlong at only 8 years old. Softly, almost imperceptibly, she whispered, “Help me.”
The walls of the map room crumbled around her. She expected to see the sky, but the walls had fallen to reveal another room. She felt the weight of the cuffs disappear. Suddenly, she was free in her childhood home, but she still felt uneasy. Her heart skipped a beat when she smelled the roasting duck and tangerine sauce. She heard a commotion outside. She didn’t need to look to picture exactly what was happening, but she moved toward the window anyway. Arlong’s voice froze her to the spot. “These are your kids?”
She’d had this dream before, too. She’d had this dream a thousand times, but she had always taken the role of her younger self in it. But today, she saw herself run to Bellemere. She watched herself and Nojiko plead for her to live, watched the village try to come to her aid, and through it all, could not bring herself to move. Arlong raised his gun and pressed it to Bellemere’s forehead, and she squeezed her eyes shut as it came to the part she hated most.
“Nojiko! Nami! I love you,” Bellemere’s voice said. Nami’s sobbing was almost loud enough to hear above the sound of the gunshot. She collapsed to the floor and cried into her hands. This had been her fault. If she had only listened and run away, Bellemere would be alive. (Bellemere chose to claim us out of love.) If she had helped get the money for their tribute, maybe Bellemere could have paid for all of them. (Bellemere didn’t want us to worry about money.) If she had just done something, anything differently, maybe her family wouldn’t have been broken. The shattered pieces of her heart tore at her flesh, white hot pain and regret clawing at her body and mind, pushing away the voice of reason within her. The anger and shame felt as strong now as they had on that horrible, evil day ten years ago. She shut her eyes against the scene and felt it shift. She could no longer hear the mourning of the people of her town, or the laughter of Arlong and his crew. Instead, she heard the sounds of battle.
This time when Nami opened her eyes, she saw an unfamiliar city under attack. She knew instinctively that this must be Alabasta. People battled in the street while the city burned around them. Swords clashed, glinting in the firelight, coming away coated in blood. Bodies fell heavily to the ground and were abandoned. Screams echoed through the evening air. It felt as if Nami had lost every ounce of breath she’d had. She turned, and there beside her was Vivi, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Even distraught, Nami was struck by how beautiful she was.
“Vivi,” Nami croaked, her mouth feeling like sandpaper. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
Vivi smiled softly at her through the tears. “No, it isn’t. You can’t help that you got sick.” She reached out and moved Nami’s bangs to touch her forehead. “Your fever isn’t getting any better yet, either. Getting you to a doctor is more important right now. You’re our navigator, remember? We can’t do this without you.”
Nami stared into Vivi’s eyes, looking for any trace of blame, any hint of anger with her, but of course there was none. Vivi didn’t blame her, she knew that. “We’re going to stop it. The rebellion. We will help you save Alabasta, I swear it.”
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the world. A new section of the city was now on fire, new screams added to the hellish choir. Vivi broke into a run toward the city. Nami tried to follow, but her movements were too slow. She was reminded of Mr. 3’s wax sculpture and a chill went down her spine. After only a few seconds, Vivi had nearly left her behind entirely.
“Vivi, wait!” Nami called out. “Please, you have to be careful!”
Vivi continued running toward the fire, toward her people, toward danger. Images flashed by in montage in that strange way dreams have, connecting the past to the present. Nami saw Vivi helping the survivors in the rubble, saw her confronting the rebels, saw a gun to her head. “Nami! I -” a gunshot cuts her off, ear-splittingly loud, Vivi’s body slumping to the ground. Then she was back at Nami’s side, staring at the devastation ahead of them, the fire reflected in her glassy eyes. Nami reached out and grabbed her by the hand before she could run off again, squeezing it tightly.
“Promise me that you’ll be careful,” said Nami quietly. “I can’t… I can’t lose you.” Tears flowed freely in rivulets down her face. It was amazing how you never ran out of tears in dreams. Vivi squeezed her hand gently, but didn’t respond. “I love you, Vivi.”
Then finally, mercifully, the dream ended, leaving Nami in the dark.
~~~~~
Vivi slipped silently into Nami’s room, where she was sleeping fitfully. She had stayed by Nami’s side as much as possible since she’d collapsed, but she was grateful that she had been on the deck when they found the island. There’s no telling what Luffy and the others may have done if she hadn’t been there. She clutched her arm where the bullet had grazed her. It hurt, but the pain would be worth it if it meant they could save Nami. She moved quickly and quietly to gather some of Nami’s things in preparation for the journey to the doctor when Nami let out a small, pained sound.
Vivi was at her side in an instant. “Nami?” she said gently. No response. “Nami, don’t worry. We’re getting you some help. You’ll be okay soon.”
Nami mumbled something in her sleep. Vivi thought she made out the words “don’t go”. She smiled softly. She wasn’t going anywhere. The thought of leaving Nami in this state made her sick with worry. As anxious as she was about Alabasta, about the rebellion, about her father, she could hardly stand to think about it when Nami was here at death’s door. Even the temptation she’d felt to go straight home instead of looking for a doctor had left her wracked with guilt. She should be packing and getting Nami ready to go, but instead she took her bedside seat.
Nami spoke again. “...So sorry…all my fault…”
Vivi furrowed her brow. “No, it isn’t. You can’t help that you got sick.” She felt Nami’s forehead for her temperature. “Your fever isn’t getting any better yet, either. Getting you to a doctor is more important right now. You’re our navigator, remember? We can’t do this without you.” She slipped her hand into Nami’s. She wished desperately that there was more she could do. Nami needed her rest, but it seemed her dreams weren’t letting her. She made to stand again when suddenly, Nami squeezed her hand tightly.
“Promise…you’ll be careful,” said Nami quietly. “...can’t lose you.” Her sleeping face was stained with tears, and Vivi’s eyes threatened to respond in kind. Her arm throbbed painfully. She wanted to, she really did, but she needed to do whatever it took to protect her friends and her people. She opened her mouth as if to respond, but how could she explain herself to someone without all of their faculties? She’d explain as soon as Nami’s fever went down. In response, she gently squeezed Nami’s hand back. She gently removed her hand from Nami’s and stood to continue her task when she heard Nami’s voice one last time.
“I love you, Vivi.”
She would later swear her heart had stopped beating for a full second. As happy and full as the words made her feel, she knew she couldn’t accept this as a real confession. For all she knew, it was just rambling brought on by the fever. But somewhere deep down, Vivi knew it was more than that. She smiled sadly and kissed Nami on her burning forehead.
“I love you, too.”