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“This is our last beer,” says Nami. She’s got her chin on her palm and her elbows on the starboard railing, carefully managing her weight so she doesn’t capsize Buggy’s old dinghy by leaning too far over.
“Well, hand it over,” grouses Zoro, lounging entirely across the little rowboat he and Luffy’d picked up somewhere unclear. It’s even more at risk of capsizing than Nami’s craft, having both a worse center of gravity and Luffy perched blithely on the prow. “Don’t be stingy.”
Nami rolls her eyes. “It’s mine. I stole it. Steal your own next time we make port.”
“Oi,” says Zoro. In daylight, it might have been intimidating, but in flickering lanternlight he most resembles a disturbed housecat. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives her an upside-down glare. “You can keep all the treasure you want, but my share of the alcohol’s mine.”
“You drank your share,” Nami tells him. He seems to think the stuff’s simultaneously a panacea and more nourishing than most meals. She isn’t sure she’s ever seen him drink water.
“I don’t want your beer,” Luffy contributes, head and neck stretching and arcing over and backwards to frown at them, more like a Sea King than a person. Nami’s still not really used to the way his body moves. It makes her skin prickle like seeing eyes underwater. “That stuff’s gross. Bleh.”
Probably for the best. Nami doesn’t ever want to be stuck at sea with a drunk Luffy.
“More for me,” says Zoro.
“More for me,” says Nami. “Pull your own weight.”
Their only light is the lantern hung suspended on what is, in daylight, a fishing pole, dangling from Luffy’s hands at the prow of his and Zoro’s dinghy, lighting an orange impression of the sun upon heaving blue-black. The moon set some hours ago; it won’t be dawn for a few more. Based on the moisture in the air and wind whipping at Nami’s cheek and the currents driving their path, based on the navigator’s map of stars clear above them and the navigator’s map of islands clear in her mind, they’ll just beat the storm brewing behind the horizon to a little port she remembers by sunrise.
“You-” growls Zoro, which makes Luffy laugh, clarion and delighted into the night. Stupidly, pointlessly, Nami swallows against the sudden urge to cry.
Watches, instead, Zoro’s head turn towards Luffy’s silhouette, lanternlight glinting orange off his eyes, off the swords resting across his waist.
“Whatever,” he says. Some demon. He could be a king of Hell for all the mythologizing Nami’s heard, but he folds like grass to laughter. “Fine.”
By all rights they should be sleeping in shifts on a night as calm as this, but Nami knows better than to trust the navigational skills of idiots, and Luffy’d installed himself on the prow as soon as it got dark, gaze fixed forward, still in a way Nami was learning to associate with utter, focused intention. Zoro, admittedly, has been napping on and off since they set out, but it’s futile to hope he’ll get back to it now that the issue of alcohol’s been raised.
Nami sighs, doing her best to sound suitably exasperated. “We can share,” she allows. “Just this once. Because I’m very nice.”
Laughter, clarion, unfettered, echoes in her ears.
“Nice?” scoffs Zoro. He reaches a hand between their boats. “Fine. Give it here.”
Nami swats him. “Wait a second,” she tells him, which sets Luffy laughing again, lantern swinging, streaking shadows. Zoro makes a face at her as she uncorks the beer and pours an ungenerous half of it into one of the empty bottles lying around, thrusts it into his hand. “You better be grateful.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, ‘m sure I’m in your debt,” he complains, snatching it and bringing it right to his lips. Whatever he was going to say next is lost to the mouth of the bottle.
Nami throws back her own gulp, eyes flicking to the starred sky. It’s not good beer. Luffy’s probably the best-off of the three of them, really, not having touched the stuff, although you wouldn’t know it to look at Zoro.
Drowsy, contented Demon of the East, and his carefree dreamer of a captain, and her, and two scrappy little dinghies tied together with a rope. Nami snorts. Some fleet, for the future King of Pirates.
Still, the alcohol and the flickering lanternlight and the clarion echoes of laughter over empty, black-glass waves ease a tension from her shoulders, from her heart. Let her imagine the world as just the three of them, drifting endlessly, free of worries, stray names whispering across the surface of the sea.
She’ll miss them. There. She’s said it. She’ll miss them.
Zoro, mostly empty bottle in hand, squints suspiciously at the following sky. Ahead of them, pre-dawn is just starting to grey the edges of the horizon, which Zoro supposes means they’re facing West. Behind them, though, gaining on them, is some sort of nasty squall, the capsizes-small-ships type that periodically sweeps across the East like a temper tantrum.
If Zoro were on his own, he wouldn’t be worried. He’s perfectly capable of swimming until he locates land. But Luffy’s a hammer, and he doesn’t know how well Nami can handle herself in open water. It’d be kind of a pain to support them both.
“You’re so soft,” Nami tells him. She finishes her half of the beer and spins the bottle in her fingers. “Keep that up, and nobody’ll even run from you in terror anymore.”
“I didn’t ask people to run away from me,” Zoro grumbles. “They just do that.”
“It’s pretty funny when they do,” notes Luffy from his perch on the prow. In the fuzzy half-light of pre-dawn, lantern-orange mixes with softer colors, gives definition to his silhouette. It’s a time of day, Zoro thinks, for the unreal. It’s the time of day that almost makes Zoro want to believe in gods. “I bet that’s what having a bounty’s like. Wow, Zoro’s so cool!”
“Why you want a bounty is beyond me,” says Nami, dropping her bottle to the floor of her dinghy and placing her cheek back in her palm. Zoro, lounging, sees all this from upside-down.
“‘Cause we’re pirates, duh,” Luffy says. “A pirate’s gotta have a bounty. Right, Zoro? Zoro knows all about bounties,” he informs Nami. Unnecessarily, in Zoro’s correct opinion. “And since I’m gonna be Pirate King, we’re all gonna have huge bounties! Even bigger than Shanks!”
Zoro hums agreement. He won’t need a bounty for his name to reach Heaven, of course. But he’s signed himself up for piracy, so it’ll be a little embarrassing if he doesn’t pick an impressive one up along the way.
“Not me,” argues Nami. Something flashes in her eyes, catches lantern-orange, the same defiant thing Zoro’s seen less and less, that’d made Zoro loathe to turn his back on her, the first few days, that dims when Luffy laughs. “You guys can do whatever you want, get yourselves killed, I don’t care. Not my problem. But I won’t ever be a pirate.”
Zoro doesn’t believe her. He’s not even sure she believes herself. He scowls. “And wha’d’you mean, I’m soft?”
“You’re not very subtle,” Nami tells him. Answering his question or the question he didn’t ask. He’s not sure, and doesn’t care- he thinks she’s rolling her eyes, but it’s too dark to tell. “For a demon, you sure are a worrywart.”
“I didn’t tell anyone to call me a demon, either,” says Zoro. “And I wasn’t worrying.”
They ignore him. Luffy says, “And you were super nice to that girl, uh-” He tilts his head to the side, searching for a name. Zoro doesn’t appreciate the heckling. “The one with the rice balls. And the tasty restaurant!”
“Rika,” says Zoro, against his better judgment.
Luffy hits his fist into his palm, then catches the lantern-rod before it falls into the sea and smacks his other hand back on top of his hat. “Right! Rika!” He snickers. “Zoro’s a softy.”
“Drown yourself,” Zoro tells him.
Nami laughs at both of them, and Luffy joins in, loud and carefree, and the corner of Zoro’s mouth twitches even though they’re making fun of him, as though Luffy isn’t a hardheaded idiot and Nami isn’t a greedy witch, as though they’re not out of alcohol or about to be swallowed by a storm. As though it's just them, ultimately, and their dreams in easy reach.
“Nami’s a softy too,” snickers Luffy eventually, lantern swinging. His legs are locked around the prow against the strengthening winds, his gaze still fixed firmly on the horizon. “She’s as nice as Zoro.”
“I am not,” hisses Nami. She sounds like a disaffected cat. Zoro cackles.
“Uh-huh,” says Luffy, meaning nuh-uh. “I saw how mad you were about that dog. And the town. Even though you were pretending! Zoro also pretends, but I’m not stupid.”
“Hey,” says Zoro. Then, “Yes you are.”
“I-” Nami complains. She levers herself to her feet carefully, turning towards the following sky, adjusting her shirt and swiping hands through her hair. “Whatever. Believe what you want.”
“Yep! ‘Cause I’m right!” Luffy crows, and goes back to laughing.
“Believe what you want,” Nami repeats. Zoro tilts his head towards her, catches her rolling her eyes, scoffing exaggeratedly. “Meantime, I’ll keep all three of us alive.”
“Softy,” calls Zoro in her direction. Luffy twists his head and makes sure Zoro can see him grin, bright even in the fuzzy pre-dawn greys, even in silhouette. Nami ignores him.
She’s looking at the storm not with apprehension but with calculation, and as Zoro watches her eyes flick towards a line of lightning moments before it cuts apart the sky, checks the angle of the sails and the knots on the rope keeping their two dinghies together, hair lantern-orange, blown wild by the wind, eyes catching lantern-light as she glances at Luffy, silhouetted, flickering, spare hand on his hat, looks back at the storm.
She’s probably got matters in hand. And if she doesn’t, Zoro’ll just have to figure out how to swim long-distance with a person under each arm. Can’t be that hard.
He downs the last of his beer, tosses the bottle out to sea, and settles in to nap until he’s needed.
There’s wind on Luffy’s face, and land fading mistily into sight as they careen forwards, and the sun just a sliver on the horizon, beckoning.
“When I find One Piece,” he shouts. The wind is really loud, so he’s gotta be louder. “I’ll have the best swordsman in the world!” He hears Zoro shift behind him. Softy. “And the best navigator in the world! Also a musician,” he adds, thoughtfully. Wow, the boats’re sure going fast! “Uh-huh, definitely a musician.”
“Sure,” huffs Nami. “As long as your musician can tell North from South.”
“Thought that’s what you were for,” says Zoro.
“More than one person per crew should know their cardinal directions!” Nami tells him. “That’s basic knowledge!”
“Are you implying I don’t-” says Zoro.
Luffy waves their complaining away with his hat-hand, then smacks it back on his head. Hat!
“And we’ll be laughing,” he promises, shouting into the wind, hearing the wind snatch his words up and turn them into howling strings of sound, “and singing!”
Rain hits the back of his neck.
“And free.”
He looks right into the rising sun, and swings his lantern over his shoulder, and grins.