Heyoo- don't mind me, I'll just be over here uploading the zona one-shots that I neglected to move over from Tumblr.
This one's a Nami-centric piece that's not super zona, but there's some cute Nami/Strawhats interactions.
Dark. It was dark. Unbearable, the darkness pressed in from all sides. It was unique, something she'd never encountered. Unlike the darkness of night, which fell only in the absence of light, this was heavy, a sea of black.
Her head spun, and in the space between her eyes, a rhythm tapped, sharp against her skull. Heavy limbs dragged her down, down. To what, she didn't know.
Unrelenting, the dark seemed to wrap around her limbs, binding her eyes, and even clogging her ears. When she'd given up hope of leaving the dark, and even begun to lose memory of the pleasant burn of light, she at long last became aware of something. A sound. At first, it was muffled; nothing more than a chittering in the dark. And then she heard it. Sharp and warbling the birdsong played at her ear.
She stared at a field. Green and orange, colors almost too bright beneath the hot sun, filled her vision. A grove of mikans.
She bent. Small, unblemished hands stroked the grass. The damp blades tickled her palms. A breeze, warm, carrying the scent of oranges and dirt, brushed her hair. Here, now, the previous darkness seemed nothing more than a dream. Surely, it was.
And then – a shout, from beyond the tress. The call, loud and unapologetic carried the promise of home. Bell-mere.
Bare feet raced across grass. She ran, her green dress fluttering about her knees. Above, sunlight flickered, blocked by the wide boughs of trees.
Bell-mere would be mad. She'd been out far, far too long. Her short curls bouncing, she sprinted, ignoring the dirt and grass clumping between her toes.
Finally, at the edge of the grove, there was light. A house materialized in the glare. Squat and square, it sat upon the hill. Grey smoke floated from the chimney, curling in the air.
She emerged from the trees, panting, her throat dry. She sucked in a breath, Bell-mere's name upon her lips –
And stopped. The scene, it was familiar – and not. A figure sprawled on the grass. She blinked. Red. There was too much red. And what would have been her mother's name, caught in her throat. Instead, she screamed.
Walls rose up. And before the scream had died on her throat, she was in a room. Grass had been traded for tile. Her toes curled against the cold surface. At the room's corner, dominating the space, was a desk. Its surface was buried beneath a sea of white sheets. And even more were pinned, competing for space along the walls. Her stomach clenched. So much work. She had so much left to do.
She scurried to the desk, and gripping the table, pulled herself into the much too large chair. The paper, an ocean of blank pages, swam in her vision. And then her heart was pounding; it fluttered, erratic, like a caged bird's wings, wild in her chest. She'd never finish. She'd never finish in time and Arlong would be so angry.
So distraught was she, that at first she didn't notice the smooth, rich notes. A voice soon joined in. Low, and almost as smooth as the string's saccharine hums, the voice sang, each syllable a bouncing tune.
Feet swinging with the happy melody, she picked up a pen. As she drew, she hummed along, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, her small heart felt light.
But the song couldn't last forever. Even her young mind knew that. Eventually it ended, as all songs do; its sweet, happy notes fading, till nothing remained but the memory of the melody, an echo in her ears.
The silence lasted but a moment. The song's echo was at once marred, as unchecked gunfire popped from the room below. Shoulders hunched down and her head whipped, instinctively looking to the door. Arlong's men often fought amongst themselves. But they never came up to bother her. Even so – her hands tightened over the back of the chair as the gunfire redoubled in volume.
"Ow, man! That's loud, girlie!"
She jumped. Beside the door, a broad shouldered man stood. His eyes were shielded by dark glasses. Blue hair curled up on his head.
She blinked. Somehow, he looked familiar.
Twisting a finger in his ear, the man grimaced as another volley of gunfire sounded. This time, accompanied by shouts.
She cringed at the sound.
Dark glasses dipped as wide eyes observed her. And then he turned with a flourish. Holding his arms up, he struck a pose.
She giggled at the ridiculous stance. The man smiled as her high pitched laughter filled the room.
"Hey girlie! Come help me! Let's fix up this door."
She tilted her head.
"Ever heard of a booby trap?" Grinning, he rubbed his hands together. "Come on, let's set up that door so anyone who comes through gets a rude surprise."
That earned a smile. Hopping from the chair, she padded across the room to join him.
They sat beside one another, cross-legged facing the door. As the blue-haired man rigged a complex trap around the door, the sound of gunfire quieted. By the time the last sounds of fighting had finally faded, so had the large, friendly man. Left behind, were the ropes surrounding the door.
In the blue-haired man's absence, the room suddenly felt very large. Faced with the emptiness, she felt at once, utterly alone. Bell-mere. Her mother's name came instinctively to mind. Dropping to the ground, she hugged her knees, pressing her face into the fabric of her dress.
"Little navigator, don't be sad." A woman's voice, low and gentle, spoke above her. When a hand smoothed over her hair, Nami peeked up.
A dark-haired woman knelt before her. The beautiful woman smiled. Nami couldn't help but smile back.
"What's wrong?"
She didn't speak, but looked past the woman, watery eyes shifting around the large, empty room.
Tilting her head, the woman smiled. "Oh Nami, don't feel lonely."
She didn't reply. Instead, looked to the abandoned trap before the door.
The woman's brows lifted in understanding. "Ah, I see." She paused, looking between Nami and the door. "I'll disappear soon too. But-" she interjected, as the young girl's eyes started to well. "Just because you can't see me, doesn't mean I'm not near."
"We aren't far." A hand brushed over her hair. "Open your eyes, and you'll find us."
Nami frowned. Her eyes were open. She blinked several times to be sure. On the last blink, she opened her eyes to find the room empty.
She blinked again, and was back at the desk. Papers spilled from the wooden surface. Finished maps littered the floor. As the pen scribbled, frantic over fresh paper, she became aware of a faint sound.
Drip.
Drip.
Small, red droplets sprinkled the page. When she lifted the pen, a drop of red rolled along the tool. It dropped, marring the paper with a splat. She winced, turning her hand. Raw, her skin peeled where an old blister had opened.
"I can help!"
She started in her seat. Slipping from her fingers, the pen clattered on wood. At first, it seemed as though the voice had come from thin air. And then she looked down, and saw – a deer.
The animal shuffled forward, hooves held in the air, placating. "Let me see." He offered a small smile.
Scooting to the edge of the chair, she held out her hand. She wrinkled her nose at the feel of the deer's smooth hooves on her skin.
And then he was humming, wiping at the small abrasion. It stung.
The deer glanced up, contrite. "Sorry! I just had to clean it! Now, I'll wrap it right up."
And he did. She watched, amazed, as he carefully wrapped white gauze over her palm and around her hand.
Finished, he gently patted the bandage. "All done!"
She stared at her hand in wonder. The pain was already fading. She looked up to thank him. But the deer was gone.
She blinked, and again time passed. How much had passed, she couldn't tell. Time seemed to have grown confused in the square room. Or maybe she was confused. It was then, that she became aware of a smell.
Lifting her head, she sniffed. It smelled – like food. And it smelled good. As she sniffed, smelling the delicious aroma, her stomach let out a low gurgle. In the quiet room, the noise was piercing.
"What's this? The lovely princess is hungry?!"
Her mouth dropped open as a man spun on his heel across the room. Jerking to a stop, he bowed, laying down a tray. And for a moment, she was torn. Her gaze shifted between the delicious looking plates and the strange man that held them. Blond hair fell in front of his face. Where his hair parted, a dark eyebrow curled. When he smiled, the curled brow seemed to wiggle on his face.
She held a hand to her mouth, suppressing giggles.
If he knew she was laughing at him, the man didn't seem to mind. His eyes squinted with his smile; he set the tray on the desk, its round form hiding the half-drawn maps.
"Beautiful princess! What may I serve you first?"
Overwhelmed by the boisterous man, Nami peeked from between her hands.
When she didn't reply, he squatted in front of her. "Princess?"
Nami shook her head, unsure how to tell the nice man that he was mistaken. If he was looking for a princess, he'd come to the wrong place. The hands that covered her eyes were stained with ink. The shoes at her feet, scuffed. And her dress worn and dirty.
As if he'd read her mind, the blond man tipped back on his heels. "Of course you're a princess!"
She watched him from behind splayed hands.
He propped his chin on his fist. "You do know what it means to be a princess, right?"
She shook her head.
He nodded firmly. "That explains it. Alright, I'll tell you."
She leaned in.
"In order to be a princess you have to be-" He counted off with his fingers. "Smart. Brave. Kind." He paused, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And you must have a dream that you never, ever stop reaching for." Straightening, he shrugged. "And it doesn't hurt to be pretty."
She was still digesting his words, when he presented a plate with a smile. "So I can say with absolute certainty, you are indeed a princess, Nami-san."
And so she ate. Though she tried to pace herself, she still ate in a rush. It was the largest – not to mention the most delicious meal that she'd had in a long, long time. When she looked up from the plate, she was unsurprised to see that the blond man had vanished. The plates and tray had disappeared with him.
She knelt, the floor cold beneath her knees, as she collected the maps that had spilled to the floor. Arlong would be angry if any got ruined.
As she shuffled the pages into a stack, a particular map caught her eye. Several islands were clustered together on the tan page. Setting the stack aside, she traced her fingers along the islands' smooth lines. Would she ever get to see this island for herself? Nami swallowed, looking up at the walls that confined her. Would she ever get to go on adventures of her own, out there on the wide sea?
"Well duh! You're going to be a brave pirate of the sea! Like me!"
She jerked, dropping the page.
Legs folded in front of him, the man sprawled on the floor. His head was covered in dark, bushy hair. A long nose dominated his face.
Nami couldn't help it. She stared.
The man across from her winked. "But until then, you want to hear some stories about my many adventures on the sea?"
He continued on without waiting for a reply.
"Of course you do!" He clapped his hands, pursing his lips in concentration. "But which one?"
Nami opened her mouth, but he was already speaking.
"That's it! I'll tell you about the time I bravely fought the giant goldfish!"
She stared, mute. Giant….goldfish?
He nodded. "That's right. Out in the vast seas there are-" He arced his arm overhead. "Giant Goldfish!" Eyes bright, he leaned forward. Not a second later, he'd launched his tale.
Nami listened, rapt as the bushy haired man animatedly described his adventures and the wonders of the seas beyond her home. She was entranced.
Story after story was told, each more far-fetched and fanciful than the last. By the end, her eyes drooped, heavy. They closed for a moment, and when she blinked them open, the man with the long noise was gone. She sighed. Really, she should have expected it by now.
She bent, hands reaching for the rest of the fallen maps. She'd collected most of them in a neat pile, when movement caught her eye. The strip of light beneath the door flickered; a shadow blocked the light.
The room erupted in noise. The door banged, rattling on its hinges. Arlong's voice growled through the wood. He wanted the maps.
Nami looked frantically around her. They weren't done. Her hands started to shake. Groaning under the pressure, the door shuddered.
Heart pounding, she looked to the ropes – the trap they'd set at the door. They were still there. But would it work? She gripped the half-finished maps, her fingers white.
"Why the hell is that guy so loud?"
At the voice, she fell back. But it wasn't Arlong's. This voice was smoother, its timbre less gruff.
A man with green hair stood between her and the door. His muscled arms were crossed tight over his chest. Over one of his eyes, stretched a long scar.
The door pounded several times in quick succession.
Nami jumped back. Clutching the maps to her chest, she stared, afraid to take her eyes off the shuddering door.
The man's lips drew down in a sharp scowl. He half turned, facing the shuddering door. His good eye roved over the wood, coming to rest on the arranged rope. He turned back, apparently satisfied. "That guy's not getting in."
She watched the door, unconvinced.
He heaved a sigh. Ambling across the room, he dropped to the floor beside her. Quiet and serious, he reached to his side. When he drew his hand back, he held a white, sheathed blade. With the katana settled across his lap, he stilled, watching the door.
"If he does get in, I'll be ready for him."
The papers crinkled as she loosened her grip. As she looked between the frowning swordsman and the door, her heart's pounding at long last began to slow.
Still and silent, he stared at the door. He was like a guarding statue, hard and unyielding. And she knew, even Arlong, as strong as he was, was no match for this man. Shoulders sagging in relief, she dropped down beside him. As she settled in, he gazed at her from the corner of his eyes.
"You're strong, you know. You don't need to be afraid of this guy."
She stared down at her hands.
"Open your eyes. You'll see."
At the strange statement, she looked up. It was the second time she'd heard it. The first had been from the dark haired woman.
Hands on his knees, the swordsman continued watching the door. "Give it time. For now, relax. I'm not gonna leave 'till he's gone."
She must have still been tired from all of the long-nosed man's stories, because as they sat together, facing the door, her eyes fluttered closed. Heaving a sigh, she slumped against him. His green robe was rough; she fell asleep, the smell of freshly polished metal and worn leather in her nose.
She awoke to sunlight warming her face. She blinked, blinded by the light. Rolling, she sat up. The tile was cool where the patch of sunlight didn't reach.
The thin ray of light seemed exceptionally bright in the dim room. The window, sitting high up in the wall, glowed blue. As she watched, a cloud, light and free, floated across the patch of blue. If only she were a cloud, then she could float away, free too.
Abandoning the spot of sun, she padded across the floor. At the wall, she bent back, staring up at the window high above her. It was so far. Grimacing, she pushed up, balancing on her toes. Pressing her arm up, she stretched her fingers up along the wall.Even on her toes, the window sat far beyond the reach of her fingers. Wide eyes stared up. The blue sky was bright, taunting.
"Oi Nami!" The voice was sharp, laughing.
Where before the view of the sky was unobstructed, now, a gangly man sat upon the window. He had large eyes and an even larger smile. Atop dark hair, perched a straw hat. Its red rim was bright beneath the sun.
"You ready to go?"
Where? She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't leave her throat.
He tilted his head back, and loud, boisterous laughter filled the room. "To the sea of course!"
Her heartbeat sounded in her ears. A breeze gusted through the window. Loose papers blew from the desk. Unable to look away from the boy in the window, she listened, as they scraped and fluttered along the floor.
Bracing his arm against the sill, he leaned in. Stretching an arm down, he grinned. "Whad'ya say? Ready for an adventure?"
Behind him, stretched a backdrop of pure blue.
He leaned down, extending his fingers further.
And she knew. Of course she would go with him.
Standing on her toes, she reached up, stretching as far as she could manage. Their fingers brushed – and then he had her. Fingers as gangly as the rest of him, wrapped securely around her hand. With a gentle tug, she was pulled up, her toes leaving the cold floor. As she rose, the sunlight grew brighter in her eyes. Behind, the dim room dissolved away, as if it had never been.
She was out.
Perched beside him, she laughed, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back as the wind breezed by, leaving fluttered kisses her cheeks.
Beside her, the dark-haired boy bounced with excitement. "We're gonna go on so many adventures!" A hand on her shoulder squeezed. "But Nami, first, you gotta open your eyes."
And she would have, but suddenly, they felt heavy. And why was the wind blowing so hard? It rushed in her ears.
"Nami." The voice was muffled, as if the speaker were a great distance away. "Come on Nami." He spoke in a wine. "Open your eyes!"
Deep in the recesses of her foggy mind, she recognized the command for what it was: an order from her captain.
She couldn't ignore that. Luffy hardly ever gave them direct orders. It must be important.
Straining, she pressed back against the darkness that dragged at her eyes, and fought against the buzzing in her ears.
"Nami. Wake up."
She struggled, repeating the order in her head.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake. Up.
And she did.
Blinking, she opened her eyes. The room was dim. A small lamp glowed upon the bedside table.
"Nami!"
Slowly, she turned her head to the side. Beside the bed, Luffy perched. His legs were drawn up against the edge of the chair. He leaned eagerly forward. "You're awake?"
She blinked.
"You're awake!" He gave the air a celebratory punch.
"What-" She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice work. "What happened, Luffy?"
He tilted his head. "You got sick. That jerk with the devil fruit – he got you." As he spoke, Luffy's hands clenched at his sides.
That – did sound familiar. She could vaguely recall a man with a strange devil fruit power. The ability to strike down anyone he touched with terrifyingly high fevers.
Her brows drew together. "He got me?" She didn't remember that.
Luffy nodded somberly. "Yeah. But everybody got real mad after that. We took care of him."
"No one else-?"
Luffy shook his head. "Everybody else is fine. But you – Nami!" His voice turned accusing. "You took forever to wake up!"
"How long?"
"Three days!"
Three days. Absently, she lifted a hand to her head. It didn't feel warm.
"Don't worry. Chopper said the fever-" Luffy hesitated. "It was – uh – busted last night."
It took her a moment to translate. "The fever broke last night?"
He nodded. "That's it! But before that, you were tossing and turning the whole time."
She'd dreamt. She could remember that much. It had been dark, its contents garbled and confusing. But – she hadn't been frightened.
Luffy grinned, patting her on the knee. "Don't worry. We took turns staying with you while you slept." His eyes squinted closed. "Didn't want ya to feel lonely!"
She didn't realize tears were gathering in her eyes, until Luffy straightened, alarmed.
"Don't cry, Nami! What did I do?"
Shaking her head, she wiped at her cheeks. Truly, she didn't know. "Nothing, I think I'm just – happy." And she was.
Pushing up on her elbow, she gave him a smile. "Now send Chopper in so he can give me a final check-up. And ask Sanji if he'll make me something to eat." She pushed her pillow back so she'd be sitting propped up. "Cause you want to get out of here right?" She grinned. "Do that and I'll be ready to navigate in no time!"
Luffy leapt from his chair. "Yosh! You got it Nami!" Holding a hand to his hat he bounded from the room, eyes bright with excitement.
In Luffy's absence, the room suddenly seemed very quiet. But it certainly wasn't silent. Through the door, she could hear voices, her crewmates' distant shouts. Somewhere below deck, a heavy object clattered.
Leaning back, she glanced absentmindedly at the chair beside the bed. Reaching out, she touched the cool wood. It was easy to imagine each of the crewmembers camped out upon it.
Brook, his long legs crossed, violin cradled against his chest, playing a tune.
Franky, tools in hand, working on a project as he sat beside the bed.
Robin, a book sitting in her lap; her eyes periodically flicking up to check on her. Occasionally, brushing a hand over her hair.
Chopper, a flurry of activity, talking to her as he checked her vitals, pausing to whip up new tonics.
Sanji, with a plate of food, reminding her the ship was a much sadder place without his mellorine.
Usop, sitting, legs folded on the chair, as he kept her company, regaling her with his many tales of romance and adventure.
Zoro, still and silent, his vigilant gaze a constant assurance that while she slept, no danger could possibly come to her.
And Luffy. His toes would have tapped impatiently on the floor, as he forced himself to sit upon the chair - an impressive feat, since the act of waiting went against his very nature. But he would wait, nonetheless, grinning as he talked, already planning their next adventure.
Letting her hand fall from the wood, Nami leaned back, pulling the blankets around her shoulders. Closing her eyes, she could almost picture them there, acting just as she had imagined them. Maybe they had. The fever had certainly done a number on her.
Eyes closed, she rolled, determined to get a few minutes of restful sleep before Luffy returned with Chopper. Pressing her cheek against the pillow, she sighed.
The darkness and the dream were already fading. Through remembered flashes, she knew that trapped in that dim dreamscape, she would have had every reason to be frightened. But through it all, fear never truly set in. Despite the dark places that her subconscious had fallen, she'd felt safe – protected.
She closed her eyes. As she sunk, drifting into a light sleep, her lips were curved – smiling.