This is long, but you are required to read it unless you already know of my "policy" on reading this bunk. If you don't read, and you ask a question that's answered in this little intro, I will just type out Internet laughter. GAHAHAHAHAHA! That is said laughter.
Howdy-ho, again! You venture to read another mishap, all-crap, Ken Tale? Well, okees. First thing, it's obviously One Piece based. And I hate lovey crap, so this story encompasses more than just love. This is a story embedded in naturalism and realism: in other words, I'm going for a pure third person omniscient story. You know ALL of their thoughts, or, most of the main characters' thoughts. They will be in-depth and analyzed on a fully human scale and line of thinking. I will attempt to relay thought processes and feelings of the characters in an all-human way. NO SUGAR COATING! Get over the fact that we all experience hormonal feelings, wanted or unwanted. Depart from your separation of guilty feelings and good thoughts, as I try to expound upon them all! All of the characters are IN CHARACTER. That means...concerning all of the characters...NO DAMN HOMOSEXUAL CONTENT WHATSOEVER. You want a freaking line-up of faggot characters? Go read Eerie Queerie. Or Legal Drug. Or watch Revolutionary Girl Utena. I'm almost sure Naruto is full of gay guys, so try that one. Or maybe I'm just a Naruto-hater. There you go. Not a homophobe, just pissed at how you blighters always have to add something gay into the mix when it's not present in the original...annoying.
With that said, this story also focuses on the development of the characters as they deal with different personalities and thought processes. They are supposedly plagued with thoughts that they consider as ailments. This happens to people, maybe not all of us, but some, as they worry about what others think and how to cope. There are also several other underlying plot themes. I won't go into them now, for after the last chapter is posted, I would like to see if anyone caught them. I hate it when people delve into writing and place one set theme on a story, so I'm introducing many, and seeing which ones YOU might find. You might catch some that I didn't intend!
I will be adding in pre-chapter commentaries. Sorry if you get annoyed. Not.
Any and all questions should be either added in your reviews or PM'd to me. I will be prompt in answering any and all said questions. Unless God needs my computer to check his G-mail. When reviewing, please do not type like an idiot. And don't flame me for not supporting homosexuality. You have no right to judge my viewpoints.
And as far as SanjixNami goes, in case you think this story is ALL ABOUT THAT: do I think "LYK OMGSH THERE LUV IS SO YAR!!11!111"? No; I do not have the driven spirit of a stupid sex-machine yaoi fangirl (although I must admit some of the mildly ecchi SaNa fanart out there is very good...). I just believe that their personalities go hand in hand. Blatantly obsessive with a lack of order, and blatantly ordered with a lack of obsession. That's Sanji and Nami, respectively: in terms of love/loving that is. I think it's the most perfect couple out there, and that is why it is the only one I support for any anime/manga. I don't think it's CUTE; I think it's pure and mature. Sanji willing to take all the baggage and brutish attitude Nami has developed from a difficult past...it's beautiful.
This is in line of thinking of their base personalities, BEFORE Nami-fanservice came into play. Remember that.
Garlic press meets compass forever. :)
Remember: read and review! R&R! LOLOLOLz.
And now, the bloody story. Gosh.
Chewing on video game controller cords,
---Ken
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SEE SPOT RUN
CHAPTER 1: "PLUNGE ON IN; TRUTH'S A MOLDY PEACH AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BAG"
"You're doing it again."
Nami had for the seventh time knocked Sanji out of a peaceful and highly pleasurable reverie that started every time she would place a segment of a tangerine into her mouth. She detected that something was different when he would stop counting out loud as she gently tossed the picked orange fruits into the wooden crate, and that he would take longer drags on his cigarette, but she hadn't connected it with her consumption of a tangerine every now and then. She only noticed that the quiet around her was abnormal, and that Sanji was replacing the cigarette in his mouth more frequently than usual.
"Oh, oh, so sorry, Miss Nami, really, I suppose I should be paying better attention," the blonde chef lied; he in truth was paying enough attention to the orange-haired navigator to observe her every little move. Nothing she did escaped his sight, hearing, or thought. He could have written volumes all about her and his feelings towards her, concerning everything. It couldn't be helped. And he was doing just fine, counting how many tangerines had entered the flimsy crate---was it finally 50?---until she just had to peel one of them for herself, break the fruit into individual segments, and place them into her mouth with the most delicate finger movements he had ever seen, although he himself wondered if her actions only seemed as average as any to the average person. And he tried to continue counting, as the fortieth tangerine became a random fifteenth, sixteenth, twenty-ninth...stop. God, how he wanted to make love to her. He felt guilty the first time his mind's dialogue forced those words into existence, even more guilty as they were internally said over and over...and over. Until finally it became normal routine. Almost a goal. From Hell.
From under lazy eye lids he watched her chew the segments, sometimes hurriedly, other times appreciatively, as if judging the juice that had just engulfed her taste buds. A red-hot sensation coursed through his veins as Sanji imagined himself being allowed to feed her those tangerines, deriving pleasure from being sprayed by an accidental squirt of the acidic juice that so often results from biting into a segment, or from merely watching Nami cleaning up the excessive mess of juice from her moist lips with one sweep of her little tongue. He didn't find his daydreaming odd, at least, not when it was kept to himself. He took several drags in quick succession from his cigarette, wondering at how he could still manage to afford cigarette cartons.
"Shall I start over?"
Nami rolled her eyes and forcefully moved the crate towards her.
"If you aren't going to help me, you can just stop, okay? You belong in the kitchen anyway."
Sanji felt stunned at Nami's sudden and harsh words. She always allowed him to toddle along with her, whenever he wanted, wherever she was going, whatever she was doing, and never seemed to mind before. Sure, she liked to snap a lot, particularly at him when he fawned over her. But he always anticipated that...what was wrong now, he couldn't figure out.
"Uh, I...I just, wanted to help you..."
"Yeah, well, it's not helping when you lose track," she spat. "I need to get this done before the frost comes, and inventory is very important! You're more of a burden than anything." Always around her, always eyeing her from those deep blue eyes of his (only one of which could be seen due to his sloppy haircut): she felt bothered and uneasy. She felt perturbed around him anyway, his demeanor was unnerving. But recently she had been awaiting the moment he finally caused her to crack. Enjoying anticipating future events, much like how she predicted the weather, she often imagined what she would say in such situations as wild and creative as Sanji breaking out into an exceptionally mad tirade about his so-called 'un-confessed love' for her (yet, he proudly confessed it everyday...), or if he tried to kiss her. She supposed those weren't as wild and far-fetched as she thought originally, considering the chef's love-sick behaviors anyway... but 'back hand the fool and push him overboard' was usually the conclusion to her fantastical ventures, no matter what the circumstances. So she had decided.
"A burden," Sanji repeated, staring at Nami, now returned to her precious fruits, with questing eyes. He had been turned down and forcefully dominated by this woman before, many times, too many to count, yet he knew that it was only backfiring, her denying him; he loved how she constantly played 'hard to get', and even if she played it over and over, he could always and forever come back for more. No 'Game Over' in his book. But never had he been referred to as a burden, and in that tone for that matter. That tone that left him feeling unwanted and tossed aside like one of his many finished cigarettes, some of which came short of being thrown into the ocean and were now littering the deck near the railings. He wouldn't have that from Nami, no, not from her. "How am I a burden, Nami?"
Nami. No Miss Nami? He always addressed her properly, what was his problem? His questioning voice caused a sickening feeling to run through her stomach, through her heart, and up into her throat. She often felt like this when confronted with something or someone whom she wanted to irately scream truths at, but held herself back, to the point where she felt that she couldn't successfully express herself otherwise. But Sanji was way past overdue to be chewed out, him and that goofy smile of his, and all those falsehoods that he constantly would spit out about respecting women and feeling sympathy for them first and foremost. Lies. He'd have it.
"Well, for starters," she forcefully threw the current pick of the tangerines into the basket, causing the peeling to crack open against the others, "you're never focused around me when you claim to either help, or keep me company---"
"Never focused? How---"
"I always get the feeling like I'm only being ogled at, up and down," she continued, flailing her right arm up and letting it fall heavily back down to her side.
"Oh, so now you're accusing me of---"
"AND," she growled, pointing at his face, "you call yourself a gentleman when you're always smoking that God-damned cigarette around me? Gentleman?! HA! Gentle, my rear end." She grabbed the broken tangerine from the basket and threw it as hard as she could at Sanji's chest. He clumsily caught it, wide-eyed and gawking at the words that still rung in his ears. "There. Now go off and don't. Waste. IT."
He had inwardly chuckled (despite having a vehement Nami in his presence) after hearing 'Gentle, my rear end', for whatever disgusting reason that jumped into his mind concerning the navigator, but the severity of the situation heightened so quickly that all former thought was forced out of his mind and was instead replaced with more pressing issues of abandonment and dislike. The universe exploded; the earth was on a crash course in an orbit of doom, or something dramatic like that; this wasn't Nami, no! It---it had to be some sort of imposter. No way in Hell was his petite orange-haired princess, his 'favorite little girl', treating him in this way. Inconceivable. She had never so much as raised her voice at him, because of him, and now she was angry with him. There was something wrong.
"N-Nami, how can you possibly be so harsh to me, why are you being this way?" he asked through shaky breaths. "You don't mean that, you positively can't mean---"
"I said go away; and I intend that in any meaning that you can gather from it! I need to get this done and you're just irritating me, as usual." She didn't originally intend to add the last part in; the idea was to make him feel upset enough to leave, but Sanji's shift in composure told her that she had struck too strong of an emotional chord.
"Irritating you! IRRITATING you?! I do everything and anything for you, Nami, and I'm 'irritating' you?!" he snarled, mimicking her tone. She glared at him icily out of the corner of her eye as she continued to harvest the tangerines. "Is that how you truly feel about my behaviors towards you? I make you special food, special treats and drinks; I offer you services of any kind, I compliment you whenever I get the chance, put you before myself always." His entire infatuation-turned-love towards the girl now turning a cold shoulder to him felt fatally wounded. He couldn't think of anything else except how he had practically slaved to try and meet her every need, want, and desire, all in desperate hopes of being loved back; he wanted, and personally felt that he needed, to do more, so much more, but knew that it wasn't appropriate and had accepted the fact that Nami would never go beyond just thanking him for his servile actions. But at some point he stopped caring about that. Simply being in her presence---receiving that sweet smile that drove him wild, 'accidentally' brushing his hand against hers while handing her a dinner plate, or (on the rare occasion of being close enough to her) merely considering how to best steal a kiss---made his daily doting all worth while, even if the feelings were not returned. And now it was all summarized by one word: 'irritating'. He stared incredulously at Nami, who continued picking fruit as if he wasn't there, wasn't talking at all. "Talk, Nami! I want you to be frank with me, honest! I don't want some chinsy lie to make me feel better."
Sanji was amazed when Nami burst into genuine laughter, disturbingly making him want to shake her until she stopped and, hopefully, cried, feeling sorry for laughing at him. She coughed once, twice, wiped her right eye with the back of her hand, careful not to rub in citrus juice.
"Honest with you, ay? As if I haven't been honest! Yeah, yeah, go ahead and frown in disgust, or look at me with that look of disbelief. Why don't you consider being honest once in while, hmm?"
Damn respect to Hell.
"You---ME BE HONEST?! You selfish, conniving, little brat! Why do you think I treat you the way I do?! FOR KICKS?! Hardly! You're the most high-maintenance, difficult, and hard-to-please woman I've ever met, yet I let---your---will---be---done. You're really just a snot-nosed wench and a---"
"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW A PERVERT WHEN I SEE ONE?!" Nami screamed, turning brick red in the face and kicking the side of the crate. Her eyes were no longer smoldering, but white hot, her pupils retracting in the sun before its daily descent into some faraway place on the ocean. "That's all you are! Not a gentleman! You call that 'honesty'?! You're just a sexually-frustrated boy who tries desperately to get some!"
Sanji dug deep into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a cigarette, the last one. Have to make it last and truly count, he thought. He placed it to his lips, barely able to hold it in place he was shaking so hard from rage. The words hit against his eardrums and resounded continuously in his head. Nodding, he absentmindedly picked up the now-full basket of tangerines and snorted, the blast of air from his nostrils moving a couple of the hair strands that had fallen in front of his face.
"So, the truth comes out: I'm nothing more to you than a sex-addict who can't be taken seriously." He continued nodding, as if agreeing with everything he had just said, and immediately hated himself as he felt tears well up over his bottom eyelids. He tried blinking them away, but it only caused more to take their place. Surprisingly, even when he considered himself and his obvious behavior, he had never really cried over a girl. He had felt frustrated, betrayed, and abandoned, but had never cried about it. There was always another girl to take the place of the one lost. But...
'There is no replacement for Nami. Nami, how could you say those things...?'
"Never mind, Nami, I'm sorry for irritating you and being a burden. I won't bother you anymore. I understand and respect your feelings." He started down the wooden steps from the small grove, carefully maneuvering the tangerines so that none would tumble out. "At least enough to leave you alone. If in the most strange event that you should need me, I'll be in the kitchen, where I belong."
His clodding steps faded as Nami kept her back towards him. She looked up silently at her tangerine trees, making the wind blowing through the branches seem more dramatic than it had to be. She saw his tears, there was no doubt about that. A small feeling of guilt and sympathy entered her thoughts, but was quickly mentally stomped on as more important notions of who and who not to trust entered her head. It wasn't the first time. She let her breathing settle, her mind still a hurricane of thoughts and feelings. What had been the breaking point?
"He's just too emotional. He's been dumped and denied before, so nothing is so special about this time." She sat down and leaned her back against a crate half full of tangerines. "He needs to grow up."
She gazed angrily at the sun, getting ready to set.
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Whoa! Okay, so maybe Sanji seems a bit OOC by yelling at Nami….but this story is assuming they've been sailing a while…Sanji's had a bit more time around our raging navigator…and pretty much is madly in love with just her. Get over it. Second part comes soon.