Another boring, yet more odd, chapter. Sorry for the bad language (in the following chapter). I don't talk like this unless it's in my head, I'm alone, and I'm super angry.

That is all.

Sending you back to business school,

Ken

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CHAPTER 5: EAT THE NIGHT

Only a day's time went by since Chopper left Nami with a head full of strong words; it only took those few hours for her to realize how much she really enjoyed the chef's obsessive attitude towards her, his goofy smile, and his incredible meals. She was too angry before to pay attention, too defiant to let herself consider Sanji as a friend. To consider any of the crew as friends... She always justified her feelings with facts of the past, with judgments made by a keen intuition. It was because of this that she now felt emotionally distressed and empty, all of her previous philosophies on relationships brutality torn apart. It was as if she was changing personalities in the few moments she had been laying wide awake on her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to force tears back into their ducts. She wanted to accept them all as friends, but something stupid and stubborn was holding her back. Some thing, whatever it was---the stupid stubborn thing---had been a part of her reasoning for the past decade of her life. It would kill her to go against herself and be open with the crew, even if it was for her own good.

The same was with crying.

And with loving.

And Sanji.

'What a bastard…'

She killed a part of herself as she let herself cry openly, for the first time in years, into her pillow, soaking the cotton cover with tears long wanting to be released. She wished for land, for Coco Village, and her real tangerine grove. For Nojiko and Genzo, then for Belle-Mere, although she was long dead and rotted in her grave on the cliff, she knew. She wondered at what Belle-Mere looked like now, no matter how disgusting it was. She realized that it would seem odd to tell anyone that she thought that way. She couldn't even tell Nojiko those things. She had trouble reconciling with herself about thinking such things. What was her issue?

And that was a problem with making friends, with letting herself be open to others. She thought her actions were odd. Odd because it wasn't how anyone else acted. She ranted, she raved. She complained about anything hat angered her, for the moment, in the past, for the future. Things just bothered her, that was all. But what was her issue? She thought of weird things, like of seeing what Belle-Mere looked like now, or dancing to some delicate background music as she danced in some remote field in some remote part of the world, no one knowing of the event. And she'd continue into normal life without anyone knowing. Or the present thought, of what it would feel like to jump into the ocean at this very moment: what would the crew do? She'd probably die, drown, but she wondered what it would feel like anyway. Thoughts like these plagued her, and they only seemed to be getting worse, as she had recently thought of being a mother; caring for Sanji that one time had done the trick. She'd even gone as far as wondering what Sanji would do if she'd finally kiss the dumb idiot into oblivion and deny it if he tried to tell anyone. That was before the accident.

That thought killed her more than any.

"That damn bastard...fucking stupid moron, I hate him, I HATE HIM..." she hissed venomously into her wet pillow. More tears. "He's so stupid, he's a jack-ass, flirting with everyone, flippin' that retarded hair around. Stupid black suit...thinks he's something with his cooking prowess...well, screw him. Making me feel awful then and now. I was fine before I met him...I was fine..." She cried into her mattress, her back arching outward as she attempted to coil herself into a ball: anything to try and stop crying. Her sobs became violent bursts of hacking and shuddering; her lungs felt like thin paper bags quickly filled with air, threatening to burst altogether, as she continued bawling. She couldn't stifle herself any other way except to bury her face into the pillow or mattress, her thin orange hair making broken patterns against the dark sheets . She didn't want any of the crew hearing her. She felt stupid, extremely stupid, and couldn't believe she was stooping so low as to cry over the ship's chef.

Was that what she was crying over? She couldn't remember.

But she'd been lying not only to everyone else, including Sanji, but to herself. She looked briefly up at her dark ceiling and admitted it silently. She loved him more than anyone she'd ever known ("Gosh, that sounds cheesy as Hell..."). As soon as he joined the crew, and assisted in her saving at Arlong Park, the small sparks of admiration for him ignited new feelings in her. She relished how he catered to her, as no one had before. She didn't want to admit it (there was that stupid stubborn thing again...); these feelings were new and foreign, thrust upon her in a matter of months. She suppressed the thoughts and feelings like she did with most emotions. She couldn't openly show her feelings like Sanji could,.And she hated him again.

And that was another problem. Was he lying? Was he false? As soon as another female would show up, Nami thought so. He immediately poured his love all over them, as if Nami hadn't existed. She would quietly hold in her disappointment, eating at her with the hidden symptoms of stomach churning and a sore face from frowning. Not that that wasn't hard to hide; she was always seemingly angry at something on the ship. But everything seemed worse when Sanji was on the prowl, as she had described him when he switched into "flirt mode". She secretly despised Vivi's presence on the ship, and even more Robin's. Sanji had been more than willing to accept Robin on the ship, even knowing of her involvement in Baroque Works; had been eager to go save her; had been okay with flirting with her openly, and even preferring her as an older, supposedly more mature, woman over Nami, who was younger. He'd said that, she heard him say it. She couldn't trust he'd forever show her that same doting affection: it'd wear off sooner or later. At least, it always seemed that way. He had once asked her if his flirting made her jealous, and she said no.

"I was. Dammit."

Had she been overreacting? Bothersome: was that another problem with her? She probably was failing to see how much he really appreciated her...

BUT NO. She was right, he was the idiot who made her compromise feelings! And stress over things she normally wouldn't have! Stress? HAHA! What was that? What is worry? What will be bothersome?

Thought somehow halted as she rested on her side, staring into black, laying on black, breathing black. The room let no light in from anywhere. She wanted to think of why she somehow became calm, and at the same time of thinking of why, she thought she was thinking nothing. Which was impossible because she wondered at calm so...that meant...

All ceased as she just stopped thinking altogether. Thankfully. Regretfully. Fortunately and unfortunately.

Dreamless sleep was what Nami had been waiting for.

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Did you catch that the disordered flow of my writing could pose as a reflection of Nami's disordered thinking? Maybe you don't find my writing as disordered in this chapter, but I do. So that's my excuse: reflecting the character's thinking...HAHAHAHA! This is how I often think by the way...I have obsessive and paranoia issues. It's kinda bothersome...