It was official. Nami was having a terrible day.
She pouted at this – prettily, because that was something Nami couldn't help but do – and watched her crew bustle and hustle on the deck below. She couldn't hear their voices through the windows, but Usopp and Chopper's jaws were both dropped into a silent scream, eyes bulging, watching as Luffy attempted to stretch his limbs in every direction as papers continued to fly. With dead eyes, clenched fists, and a swish of luscious orange hair, Nami watched her captain balloon himself into third gear, creating a net with his arm.
Good.
Her insufferable, idiotic, imbecilic captain had left the door to the library ajar during a storm.
Thirty minutes ago, Nami had been enjoying an afternoon snack with Robin in the kitchen. Egg sandwiches and rose tea, paired with thoughtful conversation and a silent agreement to politely ignore the cook that served them.
Pure, utter bliss.
And then the air changed. Halfway through a conversation about geothermal pools and, by extension, the spas they hoped to visit in their travels, Nami sensed a shift in the currents. Her nose twitched; her hands tingled. She slid out of her chair so gracefully that Sanji couldn't help but swoon. By the time she'd made it to the exit, he'd deteriorated into a puddle on the kitchen floor of blood and hormones.
She ignored her crewmate's strange behavior with poise, announcing to the deck that a storm was approaching. Obediently everyone worked – the sails were furled, the helm occupied by someone bigger and stronger than herself, and the course adjusted.
It was exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds into the storm when all hell broke loose. A loose door slipped open, a gust of wind entered, and before anyone could prevent it, Nami's collection of hand-drawn maps rained down like confetti on the ship and surrounding sea. A morbid celebration. Below her now, her crewmates scrambled to minimize the casualties.
Like ants, she decided, sculpted eyebrow quivering. Her little worker ants.
She'd been sequestered to the crow's nest for her crew's safety.
In her fury she hadn't noticed the second occupant of the nest – Roronoa Zoro considered this a very good thing. Because in all his years of battle, he'd never experienced such concentrated killing intent as he did now. If he'd been a lesser man, he would have shuddered.
Thirty minutes ago, Zoro had been enjoying an afternoon nap. Much like the other naps he took – unscheduled, unbothered – until a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the deck and reverberated through the ship's wooden frame. He'd opened his eye, struggling to shake the grogginess that steeped him.
He'd wondered first what any man like Roronoa Zoro would wonder in such a situation: is this a really, really bad hangover? A throbbing temple and a racing heart were leading him to believe it was. The ringing in his ears, however, hinted at something more sinister.
And so the groggy swordsman wrenched himself up off the wooden bench he'd dozed on, clutching his three beloved swords to his stomach and fitting his hand to the hilts. A flick of his thumb and one popped up from its sheath. And when the hatch lifted, he was ready to battle.
But it was only Nami, he realized with a drop of his shoulders. The navigator looked like she usually did – dressed in what a polite person would call clothing and what an honest person would call lingerie, expression haughty and clima-tact attached to her like a third arm. But Zoro knew something was off almost immediately.
Because Nami never, ever visited the crow's nest. She claimed it smelled like feet. There was that, and the murderous aura that surrounded her like a cloud. Combined, these things made Zoro positive that something was very, very wrong.
"Little… shit…" Nami growled, watching as Luffy flung himself out to the water, slapping a sea king across the face when it snapped its jaws at one of her maps. Kicking off one of its eyes, he landed back on the deck with papers intact. Usopp and Chopper cheered. The sea king floated, dead, alongside the ship.
Zoro frowned at the navigator. He wondered how long she planned to stay, emitting her nasty aura and taking up his space. He planned on lifting weights soon. Or taking another nap, which he couldn't do when she was setting his spine straight.
Removing his hand from his swords, he stood up. And waited, groggily, for his crewmate to turn. But even half awake it appeared his movements were too silent for the average person to hear. So with a heavy sigh, Zoro opened his mouth.
"Oi, Nami."
His navigator tensed, but didn't jump and scream like she usually would. In fact, Zoro had resigned to the fact that his ears would bleed after he called out to her. But no, her only reaction was in her bare shoulders, which squeezed in her shoulder blades so they poked out of her bare back. Moments later, she relaxed. And by the time she'd settled, every hair on Roronoa Zoro's body raised.
Something was very, very wrong.
"Zoro." Her voice was sickly sweet. She didn't turn. Zoro fought the strong urge to swallow.
For a moment, all the Straw Hats could hear was the crash of waves against the ship and the gust of wind. The storm was calming – the rain was stopping. Through thick black clouds there were rays of sunlight peeking through, beaming down like spotlights onto the beautiful ship.
Peace never lasted long on the Thousand Sunny.
Usopp and Chopped froze on the deck, carrying a stack of papers each, when they heard a violent crash. Glass rained from the sky like hail. A blur of green followed, smacking square into one of the masts. And then, a groan.
They watched, fearful, when Nami appeared in the gaping hole that used to be the crow's nest window, watching over them like an overlord. Her punching arm shook.
"Why weren't you… helping?" The navigator pushed out, mouth spread in the beginnings of a maniacal laugh.
Usopp looked to the sky, sending a prayer up for the swordsman in the afterlife. Beside him, Chopper began to cry. Luffy punched another sea king, cackling – his stack of papers sat in a forgotten corner by the beer barrels.
It was on that day that the Straw Hat swordsman's life was signed over to the navigator's. Because no one messed with the navigator's maps, and no part of the swordsman's mind, body or soul would survive the debts she levied against them.