Thanks to Guest Review, I will continue posting this story here as well.
And to Guest Review 2: you'll have to wait and see what's in store for Nami and our favourite pink-wearing blond guy ;)
Please leave a review if you enjoy the story – comments really keep me motivated and going!
"Wow!" Nami breathed, slowly turning around, trying to take it all in. "You really live here?"
The room was spacious, high ceilings decorated with beautifully detailed dentils and cornices and even a cartouche or two. The herringbone parquet stretched through the vast expanse and intricate cornices framed the ceiling, from where an ornate chandelier lit up the room, the prisms twinkling in the cheerful morning light. Through an open door, she could glimpse what she took to be the living room, where double windows could be seen framing an utterly charming view of Paris.
And this was just the hallway.
Sanji looked unfamiliarly bashful as he took her bags and led her through the apartment to the guestroom.
"Well, when my sister heard that I was coming to study here, she insisted that she help me find a place to live."
"What are you, with a home like this?" Nami laughed, plopping down on a soft bed covered in a sky-blue bedspread. "Some kind of royalty?"
"Wouldn't go that far," said Sanji, setting her bags down on the floor. "But my sister knows some lovely people who let me have this while they are abroad."
"Well-connected sister. Good to have one of those."
"Says the woman whose sister arranges for her to have nice, cushy summer jobs back in Sweden, each and every year," said Sanji and poked her in the side, making Nami squirm.
"That's why I say it's good to have one of those! I know their value! Please, no tickling!" she laughed, trying to escape Sanji, who had now managed to capture a foot and attack the soft valleys on the underside.
The weekend could properly begin after Nami had settled down, gotten her things sorted for her short stay (and Sanji stopped his tickle attack) and reported her arrival in the group chat.
Her departure had been uneventful. Tears from Chopper (reciprocated by a tight hug), a hearty clap on the back from Usopp which almost sent her reeling (she'd have to up her training regime) and a horrifying gleam in Luffy's eye as he started planning his coming visit (which Nami strongly declined) had sent her off in the grandest of styles.
And now for a weekend in Paris.
Nami was nothing if not well-prepared and organised. After leaving her stuff at Sanji's place (palace) and a quick café latte at the small café on the corner with a surly owner with a face of stone who narrowed her eyes at Nami before melting into a small puddle at Sanji's gushing over her croissants, Nami dragged Sanji out by the scruff of his neck: a woman on a mission, with a detailed schedule in one hand and her print-outs in the other, ready to take the city by storm.
The day was balmy and the first sprouts were widening the cracks in the pavement, light green spindly shoots reaching for the sky. Although the recent binman strikes had left a vague whiff of rotting food hanging around in the nooks and crannies of ornate Haussmann architecture, and the buskers were legion even this early in the year, the city was still striking in its aged grace.
Sometimes the city seemed an almost organic thing, growing from a dense heart with winding alleys and ginnels, following the direction of the underlying geography and clinging to the banks of the Seine. Musky brick walls, covered in flaking paint and barely holding up by their wooden frames, crammed together with stately homes in cream and ivory with their rich wrought iron detailing and intricate carvings, as nature had ordained when the city was being created. Cemeteries and markets and forgotten plazas dotted the curves of the landscape where they best fulfilled their purpose, either close to the water or high on the hills.
Nami had a detailed schedule to Experience All The Principal Sights And Sees, but Paris took one look at it, scoffed, and threw it to the seven winds. Their carefully planned tour turned into an inefficient meandering and dips into side-streets where small shops caught their eye and emptied their wallets.
Sometimes the city was a scourge upon the earth, digging deep into its bones, excavating and crushing limestone for its roads and buildings which it lay in ramrod-straight lines, not caring about the gales created by high buildings flanking streets laid out in the prevailing wind direction; not caring that trees, lonesome giants left in parks, were cut off from their brethren and left to die when their roots were cornered in ever smaller enclosures of asphalt and concrete.
A trek past the Eiffel Tower took them down the tree-lined Avenue Montaigne and past the park framing Champs-Elysées, the arches of the Arc de Triomphe visible in the distance. After extricating a promise from Sanji to visit the monument later on, their voyage continued along the smaller side-streets, taking breaks at appropriate intervals for Nami to admire the small shops and Sanji to admire Nami.
Sometimes the city was a warm whiff of newly roasted coffee and the mouth-watering scent of fresh croissants and butter and garlic, merrily dancing in the air between a baker and a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant.
Paris was built on Paris. The limestone and gypsum found beneath it was turned into slabs of pavement and wall, and into plaster to satiate the never-resting appetite of architecture. The uniform height of the city disoriented Nami and it was not once nor twice that Sanji had to gently turn her around so she'd at least reach some of her carefully annotated sightseeing goals. Fairy lights hung from trees and between buildings and draped over balconies, unlit in the slowly meandering day, and shadow and sunlight alternated between wide avenues and narrow streets, flanked by buildings so old they had to lean against each other for support.
And yet, wherever they went, the scammers were somehow there before them.
Nami lost count of how many friendship bracelets she had been offered or how many petitions had been thrust under her nose as they traipsed from Sacre Coeur past the Louvre to the charred remains of Notre Dame and onwards. Not even the nimble and swift fingers of three card monte players, or the masters of the cup and ball trick, were enough to tempt her, neither the guided half-day tours to Versailles or Reims that random passers-by tried to include her and Sanji in.
When a tap on her shoulder turned her towards a blinding smile and the glint of sunlight on a golden ring, Nami didn't even blink.
"Mademoiselle, did you drop this?"
Nami did blink at the face greeting her.
The man was taller than her, with a mop of ink-black hair and a hint of sideburns. His face was clearly defined and his eyes a light brown so deep it almost turned to gold in the sunlight.
If his accent wasn't obviously continental, and clothes about three leagues more prim and proper than what he used to dress in, she could have mistaken him for one Trafalgar Law.
The handsome man held up a thin gold band, adorned with a small diamond. It was neither so large as to be gaudy, nor so small as to be insignificant. It was the perfect size and design for someone of Nami's discerning eye and good tastes.
Naturally, she reacted as expected.
"Thank you, I did drop it!" Nami said with a grateful smile, holding out her hand in anticipation.
The man looked taken aback at her reaction, clearly not expecting it.
"But–"
"I thought I felt something slip off my finger," Nami continued blithely, ignoring his rising confusion as she stepped after him, "but then I thought to myself, 'No, that can't be. Not my grandmother's ring, it can't just slip off–"
"Mais–" the man tried to interject, still holding the ring aloft but now with a certain tremble in his character and a sudden twitch in his eye.
"–and then it did fall off, but it is my lucky ring because you found it!" Nami beamed.
"Are you quite certain this is your ring?" the man tried to interject once more, holding the band just out of her reach. "If you look closely–"
Nami stepped into his space, angrily looking up in his face, arms akimbo. "Are you saying you're not going to give me back my ring? My genuine gold ring that I just dropped?"
"Ma-mademoiselle–" the man stammered, clenching his hands and squinting around in panic. "This–"
"Fine!" Nami said with a sneer, throwing up her hands in apparent defeat. "Keep it then. Keep my late grandmother's ring that she bequeathed to me on her deathbed. May its curse follow you, as it has followed me."
She turned around with a flick of her head that made her long mane whip into the stunned man's face. "Come on Sanji, let's go. I simply can't with such horrible human beings as that worm."
Sanji looked perplexed as he followed her, looking over his shoulder at the confounded man, frozen in place.
"Don't you want–"
A crash behind them resulted in chaos and raised voices.
"I took his belt." Nami wiggled her eyebrows, holding up a length of tanned leather. "Now, run."
Sanji choked on a laugh as he set off after the orange wave disappearing behind the next corner.
They didn't slow down until the commotion behind them had died down and they had put at least six blocks between them and the ring master.
"You haven't lost your touch," Sanji wheezed, leaning against a wall, rubbing his side. "I need to rethink my smoking; the side stitches are not worth it…"
Nami grinned as she rifled through the wallet, pocketing the few bills found within. "They should've known better than to try and use such an obvious scam on me." She dropped the wallet in a yellow post-box as they strolled past.
"You are a horrible thief."
"I am a great thief with horrible morals," Nami answered, threading the belt through the loops of her jeans. "Don't follow my example."
Sanji shook his head, eyes sliding shut in the afternoon warmth. "C'est la vie."
The afternoon rolled leisurely by after that, their mad dash taking them off their planned track but onto a less travelled path of quirky side-streets and leafy boulevards. At a particularly enticing fountain, Nami took a selfie of the pair, sharing it to their group chat before Sanji could protest and then dragged him to the closest café as a distraction.
Judging by the speed of Luffy's answer, he was either on the toilet or bored at home. Or both.
L: Don't do anything I wouldn't!11!
Nami scoffed, ignoring Sanji's heartbroken sobbing beside her. His hair did not look translucent in the picture, it was merely very very light.
N: I won't do anything you would, either.
L: :(
Since the day was very pleasant for some light people watching, Nami and Sanji occupied a small round table outside and settled down to enjoy some truly delicious coffee.
U: Luf, don't you remember when you got a warrant in Mexico?
L: SO DID NAMI
L: :(
U: Yeah, but your bounty was larger
U: Anyway, I heard an interesting rumour about Torao–
Nami shut down the chat before she read anything more about Law. She was having such a lovely time without him.
She sank down in her chair when a tall man with black hair breezed past their window, dark trench coat flowing behind him, and her heart stuttered until she realised he was at least three decades too old to be Law.
She was completely on top of the situation.
A sudden ping and sad emoji filling her screen alerted her to her obligations towards other acquaintances: she hadn't told Grannies Who Make Tea, Not Love that she had arrived in one piece and on time.
Such horrible mistakes should be rectified immediately.
The chat had originally been created for a group presentation and then consisted of Rebecca, Vivi and Shirahoshi. Kaya had been a most delightful addition later on, although her schedules in medical school meant she usually mass-spammed them at two in the morning with the latest weird stuff she had learnt about all the ways the human body could mess itself up. Their most recent addition, knight Bepo of the Afternoon Tea, was a more silent companion, sometimes shyly knocking on her door at the office to ask her what Vivi meant by referencing some person named Spiders Georg as he couldn't find him online, please?
Nami sent their selfie to the girls (and Bepo) as well, immediately receiving two hearts and a party balloon on the picture.
Viviibibii: Enjoy Paris! And eat enough croissants for me to get cholesterol poisoning by proxy.
Nami-chan: Yes, your highness
Viviibibii: By the way, how did it go with a certain potential professor?
Viviibibii: Donquixote Nami does have a ring to it
Nami blushed at the reminder. She should never have confided her confused feelings in Vivi, almost forgotten in the rush of preparing for her exchange.
Nami-chan: Fuck off
Viviibibii: Fuck of, Your Highness.
Nami-chan: Fuck off, Your Most Royal and Honourable Highness
ViviiBibii: 3
Shirahoshi: Bepo, I have to ask a thing. I heard this thing about Trafalgar-sama–
Nami groaned as she shut down her phone. No more Law.
Her coffee was cold but still enjoyable but she felt the grumblings of hunger in her stomach. Sanji had promised her a dinner to triumph over all other dinners in history, so her expectations for dinner were somewhat elevated.
It didn't seem that her companion was in the mood for further adventures or refreshemnts, however. Sanji's eyes were hard as he scrolled past something on his phone, free fingers tapping away at the table. He hadn't seen their group chat, and Nami didn't know what else would make his eyebrow scrunch up like that – any hint of the Time In Mexico was usually enough, but he was still on unread. He sighed, shaking his head imperceptibly before carefully placing his phone on the table, screen down.
"Everything all right?" Nami asked gently, discretely collecting their dirty cups and saucers, the thin porcelain cool against her fingers.
"Nothing to worry about," Sanji said, his phone disappearing somewhere on his person as he took the small tray from her and he swished away, his inner gentleman taking over in horror at the demoiselle doing something so pedestrian as cleaning the table. When he was done, he took her bags and held out a hand.
"Let's get something to eat."
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