Chapter Four – Somewhere near East Blue District Police Station
Monkey D. Luffy could very well be a tracker. The grandfather is a commander, his eldest grandson the inside man and his youngest a trained tracker-cross-bloodhound, Nami decides. No matter how many times she tries to lose him in the bustling streets of the East Blue district, he manages to always appear beside her once again and never once did he look the least bit exerted at all. In fact, he looked jovial, as if they were playing some fun game of cat and mouse; either that or because his eyes light up whenever they pass a restaurant which is about every fourth establishment.
They pass a seventh restaurant – a Korean place with the delicious aroma of sizzling meat and spicy stew – and Luffy is instantly drawn to it, mouth-watering. Like every other place though, as soon as they clear it, he snaps back to normal.
"You can get something to eat," she says finally, "I'll only be at the police station for the rest of the afternoon."
"I will, at Baratie's," he replies, grinning, "Everything out here is great but Sanji and the old man's cooking is the best!"
"Baratie…?" Nami cocks her head, wondering why the name sounds so familiar. She shrugs it off, "What do you usually eat?"
"Everything," his eyes become small rainbows again, "Meat stew, fried rice with meat, meat ice cream—"
"What?"
"—barbeque meat, combination meat, meat kebabs, meat-lovers pizza, meat noodle soup, roast meat, fried meat, meat buns, grilled meat, smoked meat—"
"So anything with meat?" Nami summarises.
"Pretty much. You can't go wrong with meat. Hey," Luffy turns to her, "Let's go eat there sometime when you're free."
"Later," she replies, "I have work and homework to catch up on." Not entirely a lie; even though she thinks the work is mercifully simple so far, "And I think you do too. Weren't you building a sword out of markers in Psychology today?" The police building is close. She can see the shiny panels about to blind her in the afternoon sun.
He waves off the comment, "Sure, but you have to take a break sometime! Working all day is boring," he screws up his face, "And I can't concentrate anyway. So what time do you get off?" The last part he adds on as an afterthought when he also sees the building.
He's like a puppy; a bloodhound pup.
"Late. Look, Luffy, I'll see you later, OK?" she partly turns and gives a short wave, "I'll be right from here. See you."
She turns and is immediately knocked back, "Oof!" It takes a second for the collision to register and her annoyance flares, already exhausted of politeness in shaking off one boy, "Hey, would you look where you're—"
She had bumped into a man. She looks up at him, anger seething, and registers the short blonde hair, the full lips that would be enviable by any socialite but only ridiculous on the man's face and the tall, well-built stature of a Pirate.
Quickly, her mouth clamps shut against whatever comment would have escaped next with such force she almost draws blood. Her eyes feel dry from never blinking once since recognising his face (even though barely a second, less, has passed) and she hopes – begs – Luffy does not see. She hopes more that he does not see her skilled fingers fold inwards on themselves, sealing the scrap of paper between them and her cold palm.
"I'm sorry," she forces out. The voice that represents her is low, throaty, utterly unafraid, and completely bullshit.
The man opposite does not reply, merely casting his glance downwards at her hand. Subtly, Nami nods once. I got it.
He nods in reply and brushes past her.
"Hey, are you OK?" Luffy asks beside her. She can almost hear the frown in his voice, "What a jerk, doesn't even say anything." She hears him turn and presumably flip off the man, maybe even stick out his tongue, knowing him.
She begs he – either of them – doesn't turn back around. If one turns, they will both get hurt and if the other does, only she will. As selfish as it is, Nami can't decide which is worse.
Don't turn around. Please.
Tashigi proves to be a beneficial ally within the workplace. Nami mentally pats herself on the back and files away the feeling as an accomplishment of the day. You did well with this one.
Friendly, with just the right dose of authority and demeanour to effectively run the lower half of the building; Tashigi reminds Nami of a bat to the Dracula with future lung cancer that is Smoker, upstairs. Tashigi's quiet mostly but, with enough provocation, lunges at her enemy screeching. Not to mention, she's blind as a bat and has a habit of frequently misplacing her glasses, only furthering the comparison.
The best thing about Tashigi is her respect of space. She briefs Nami on protocol, general locations of the facilities and her responsibilities within the workplace. Then she mainly leaves her alone to it, excusing herself to catch up with her own work. Nami decides she likes Tashigi, for now. Anyone who can brief a fire drill in less than fifteen seconds is worthy of praise.
Sitting alone at her desk now, though, Nami feels a strange urge to use those shiny, metal ballpoint pens as darts.
I thought a police station would be a little livelier.
Her eyes flicker to the clock stationed above the front doors. 4:56PM. She sighs, awaiting a long evening and turns a full revolution in her fancy office chair, coming to a stop when she sees a silhouette approaching the doors.
"Ain-ch—!" a tall, burly man comes in, decked out in what appears to be the police uniform. The sleeves are hacked off and expose his tightly muscled arms. He is rugged with a tan face and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. At the sight of her, he raises his eyebrow and reaches up to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth, using the other to withdraw a lighter from his pocket.
"Ain-chan's off-duty or something?" he asks as he ambles closer.
"Not exactly; a couple of officers came down and took her out a while ago. There was an anonymous tip about a Pirate gang in the area. They thought Ain would be able to help."
"Former criminals helping to catch criminals, huh?" the man flicks the metal box to ignite it, and then cups his hand around the cigarette, "Don't mind if a guy takes a smoke?"
She shrugs, "Go ahead."
He smiles, clearly amused by her. She returns it, noting where he deposits the lighter. Right pocket.
"So you're new, huh? What's your name?"
"Nami." She's beginning to feel a bit tired with repeating herself all day, introducing herself all the time and generally the whole process of trying to fit in. She'd experienced it enough to know she hated it, especially with people who stare a little too far south to be friendly.
Then again, those are the people who are easiest to manipulate.
"Are you going up to see the captain?" she asks and stands up, deliberately making a show of stretching her long, slender arms as she walks to the elevators and presses the button with the upright arrow, "I'm pretty sure he's still in there."
"Uh, right," the man shakes himself, clearly flustered. His right hand comes up to pull out the cigarette in some motion of confidence as he blows out smoke…
…leaving his right pocket wide open.
By the time the elevator doors even close, Nami is already seated back in her chair, twirling the lighter between her fingers. 5:00PM
The phone rings, or 'beeps' might be a better way of describing it. It's a quiet beep, making the 'click' of the receiver ominously loud in the silent lobby. Nami lifts it up and holds the receiver to her ear. Even though she was told to recite specific lines courtesy of Tashigi, she doesn't say any of that. She says, "Yes?"
"Want to tell me why there's a bunch of police on my tail?"
"Anonymous tip." Nami becomes acutely aware her hand is already growing numb from its grip on the receiver. She consciously forces herself to relax. You're in a police station. There is no safer place than a police station.
Arlong scoffs on the other end, "Right. I'll believe it when Chew and Kuroobi come back. I suppose you or your sister just happened to find some change near a payphone?"
"It wasn't us. We have a deal, we abide by it."
"Sure, Nami." His voice is pleasant enough but the underlying threat still makes its way to the surface, freezing her muscles with frost.
"Speaking of which, my payment is coming a little late. If it's coming at all, that is.
"I'm getting a little impatient, Nami. If I'm tempted enough, I might have to access my insurance – that little account you've been safekeeping—"
"You'll get your money," Nami interjects, "Tonight. Ten-thirty." She aims high, allowing plenty of time to get home at the end of her shift and complete some homework. Nojiko should be home by then and they would both go to Arlong. She'd better remember to swipe some pepper spray off an officer's desk too. She didn't know what kind of creeps would be stalking around at that hour. She also hopes for a Taser gun, just in case.
"F District, Nami. Ask around," he simply says. The line goes cold.
Slowly, slowly, Nami puts the receiver down and rests her elbow next the machine. Her right temple presses down onto the heel of her hand as she regains her pulse. One, two, three, four…
F District, she sits up, smoothing out her posture as if all is well and runs her fingers up and over the crown of her head, tugging the thick ponytail into a tighter knot. Somehow, the little things – breathing, fixing her appearance, feeling the cool touch of her bangle – makes her feel calmer and maintain some semblance of control, and sanity.
Nami rolls over to the large map behind its protective screen on the wall behind her desk and scans the large area of the East Blue district. There are lines of roads and streets. There is also an underlying red watermark image of the subway system.
At the end of one pale red line is a prominent black sphere and bold printed letters: F District. It's situated towards the edge of the boundaries of East Blue. The entire area is sprawling with compressed squares and angular shapes, representing many buildings. The larger ones are likely the remains of factories or perhaps warehouses. Those were usually the easiest places to hole up a Pirate crew.
"Incredible, isn't it?"
Ain's tall, slender figure comes to a smooth stop beside Nami. The automatic entrance doors hiss close, it seems, way too late as if the motion is buffering. How is she so quick?
"I didn't think you'd be back—" she starts.
Ain shrugs one shoulder, spilling a curtain of dark blue hair on either side of it, "It was a dead end. So we came back."
"'We'?"
"I did," Ain lifts one finger and traces a path through the mess of symbols and lines, "I lost one man here. The other," her finger sweeps swiftly left, closer to the bold 'X' marking the police station, "Here." She withdraws her hand and stands still for a second, surveying the map. Nami cannot tell what she is thinking. Tashigi had given her a very brief briefing on her work and desk-mate. Including the fact that she was once a criminal.
"The Neo force, heard of them? We're in short supply right now so we just pluck up criminals left and right and drop them into desk jobs 'cause y'know, they might be useful."
At least Nami is ninety-nine percent sure that is exactly how Tashigi explained it to her ears. She was probably otherwise occupied at the time repeating her mantra: "There is no God, there is no God, there is no God…" and also the voice of Oprah Winfrey ("You get a criminal! You get a criminal! Everyone gets a criminal!").
"Someone came in wanting to greet you too," Nami tells her instead, "Big, burly guy with a thug gang's vest and chain smoker?"
"Cigarette Ash?" Ain walks over to her seat and gracefully sits down, back stick-straight, "Glad I missed him. If he tries to make a move, I keep ballpoint pens fully stocked."
Nami rolls her chair over to slip behind her desk, discreetly slipping both the lighter and paper into her pocket, "They work pretty well as darts too."
Ain nods solemnly, "That, too." Her eyes are a very unique colour, Nami thinks. A cross between red and brown – no, like a blend of carmine and berry when the light hits them. They contrast with the thick blue hair that curves around to hug her neck. She is pretty, Nami thinks: refined somehow, like a traditional beauty.
"Are you a 'reformed criminal'?" Ain asks. Her tone is very direct, though it hitches a little over the last two words, as if mocking them.
"Nope, regular poor student."
"Are you planning on joining the force?" she inclines her head backwards toward the elevators.
"No."
At this, Ain almost smiles.
"We'll get along," she says.
At some point around six-thirty-seven, Nami gets up and excuses herself to the bathroom. Whilst there, she pops open the primitive frame of a window and leans out, as far as she can, before taking the lighter to the piece of paper handed to her by a Pirate. The numbers curl and blacken; burn, burn, burn, like she wants her memory to.
The smoke drifts up, further, higher until it cannot be seen anymore and disappears –
(like she wants her memory to).
At seven-twenty-five, Ash fumbles with a spare key into his office cursing his bad luck. First the lighter, now his office key is lost too.
Just one of those days, he curses, jamming the metal piece into the lock and jerking it awkwardly in his large grip. Once inside, everything is undisturbed, but for his lighter. It sits upright next to his pack of cigarettes with his office key on its chain wrapped around it.
At seven-thirty, Nami knocks on the door adjacent to Captain Smoker's office. It is quite a plain door, unmarked and smooth. The metal handle jerks once and Tashigi opens the door, revealing the appropriately messy office of someone who receives most of the paperwork from her Captain. He is a great authoritarian but not the most delicate in language, assigning most of the diplomacy and correspondence tasks to his second-in-command. The desk is cluttered with sheets of paper and open files despite an open laptop as well.
"Tashigi-chan, I'm telling you there's no way my lighter and key could have ended up in my office! I wasn't even in there today! Someone's stolen my gear and—"
"Ash, please, I am very busy today," Tashigi glares momentarily at the paper stack but never once turns the same look towards the adjacent door, "Nothing's wrong, right? Nothing's even stolen or touched. Someone probably just accidentally took them somehow and just returned them, OK? Now if you'll excuse me – oh, Nami, what is it?"
"I'm sorry, were you…?"
"Ah, no, Ash was just leaving," she stands aside, holding open the door and gesturing with a flourish.
"Tashigi-chan—" Ash complains.
"Now."
With a grumble, he marches out, still managing to tip his head slightly at Nami. She returns a sympathetic smile.
"Sorry about that. What is it?" Tashigi leans against the door frame and adjusts her glasses, closing her eyes for a brief second, likely out of exhaustion.
"Ain-san mentions you tend to forget about the time. I really need to catch up on some work…"
"Huh?" Tashigi twists her head so sharply she narrowly misses smashing it against the door jamb. She rushes back into her office and behind her desk, jolting her laptop to life. Nami has to dart forward and prop a hand against the door to prevent it from swinging shut.
"Oh God, it's past seven-thirty already." Tashigi plants both hands on the desk and drops her head, letting out a deep sigh. Then she straightens and rubs her temples, "Nami, you're free to go. Sorry, I would have forgotten completely."
"Don't worry about it. You're busy." Nami walks hesitantly into the office. It's warm and welcoming, despite the chaotic mess and thankfully, smells like the beach and the morning, compared to the nicotine in the other room.
"This is pretty much a typical day," Tashigi says, gesturing to the scattering, "Before, during and after coffee."
Nami laughs and approaches the table, covered with lines of sheets of paper and enough ink to publish a novel. She quickly discerns the common sets of sheets based on their format, content and page numbers.
"How about I help you clean up a bit? I've still got time."
"Seriously?" Tashigi sits up straighter in her chair which she'd dropped into and her face breaks out into a relieved smile, "Thanks, that'd be great. Uh, maybe if you organise everything to this side of the laptop…?"
"Sure." Nami drags over a chair and perches on the seat as she grabs the first stack of papers, "Do you have bulldog clips?"
"You would think so, huh?" Tashigi reaches over and pulls out a drawer. Within is what looks like tens of staplers with tattered boxes of staples pushed up against the sides. She also gestures to a metal bin filled with multi-coloured paperclips, "Good luck."
"You know none of this has a chance of holding for more than a week, tops."
"Oh don't I know it." Tashigi delicately places the last stack of paper, with a sadly inadequate staple struggling to attach the back and front page, into a folder of the cabinet, "But, it'll do for now." She pushes the heavy slab of a metal drawer shut and turns to face her, "Thank you. I mean it; this is really helpful right now."
"No worries," Nami replies, "Though, I'd save that sentiment until these papers are still together tomorrow morning."
"It'll be fine. We've gotten a lot worse, believe me," Tashigi grins and returns to her laptop, which had to be hooked up to a charger halfway through the clean-up, "Anyway, you've definitely worked your fill today. It's getting late, I'm sure— SHIT!" Her face contorts in such a way that her glasses drop half off her face. She gawks at the monitor and only utters, "It's already ten…"
"WHAT?" Nami pushes herself off the cabinet and glances out the window. The night is black as pitch.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was so late—!" Tashigi is saying. Nami can't even hear her.
Ten thirty, ten thirty, ten thirty…
"My insurance, Nami…"
"I need to use your phone," Nami says. Her voice is firm, if not slightly wavering. She hopes Tashigi does not notice that, "Please."
Minutes later, wandering around the lobby with Tashigi's phone pressed against her ear, Nami hears Nojiko breathing fire down the line. Not hot, red fire but icy, blue inferno. The latter of which happens to be much hotter.
"Where are you and give me one good reason why I should not run you over on sight."
"I'm still at the police station and I advise not because I believe that constitutes murder and my new boss will arrest you on sight."
"I could prove manslaughter and get a lower sentence."
"Probably."
As furious as Nojiko is, she never holds a grudge. In fact she probably already got over it the second she heard Nami's voice. Nami can almost hear a subtle smile in her voice now. (Slowly, slowly, the words that brought them both so much grief were able to be formed on their lips and spoken. But as always, a leaden silence follows).
"Well, I've been trying to call you. See, thing is, I'm still at work too. The restaurant's got late stragglers and I'm stuck on shift."
"Oh…" Nami feels her hopes drop. She had been hoping the unanswered call at home had just meant her sister fell into one of her heavy naps. She'd tried the restaurant Nojiko worked by night just in case and managed to get a hold of her.
"What's wrong?"
"I need a car now."
Immediately, her sister picks up on the implication, "Tonight?"
Nami simply stays silent. Then she says, "Ten-thirty."
Her sister is silent again. Then she says, "How much money do we have?"
"Not enough for a taxi. I could try the subway or walk to the restaurant—"
"No way, not by yourself. You are not walking around anywhere this late at night without a getaway option either." She adds on the last bit as Nami begins to protest and becomes very quiet as she always does when she's thinking. Nami can't even hear the intervals of her breathing on the phone. She imagines Nojiko chewing on her bottom lip, favouring the right side more than the left, and her left hand cradling the elbow of her right so it is perpendicular as she holds the phone. Little habits, they give so much away. Even without seeing her, Nami knows how Nojiko behaves when she is stressed. It only lasts nine seconds and then Nojiko speaks in a practiced voice, too calm to be authentic.
"Get someone to drive you here. Then get the car and go."
"Like I have time for all that!" Nami exclaims. She still has the map in the lobby memorized without need of having to turn around to confirm. Nojiko's restaurant and F District are definitely on near polar opposites of it. She wouldn't bet on traffic being the most accommodating around this time either, at least in the city.
"Even less if you keep arguing with me," Nojiko replies calmly, "Right now, that's your only option though, unless you want to steal a police car." She allows a momentary pause and then says, "No, Nami, don't. Just come here. We'll just have to be a little late this time. OK? Now, I'm busy. See you." Then, without waiting for a reply, she cuts the line and the dial tone rings in Nami's ear. Each drone sounds suspiciously and ominously like a heart dying.
Perhaps her own heart would sound the same soon. As it were, it feels like the muscle is pounding in her chest at an irregular rate. She feels numb and then scorched in various places, sometimes at the same time as she tries to make sense of the situation. The payment could not be late. She would not take that risk.
What should I do?
The lobby phone rings.
She changed her mind? Nami dives for the receiver; almost knocking over the ballpoint pen structure she had painstakingly taught Ain to build (she wanted to win at something since Ain could win at darts blindfolded, literally) and snatches up the handle, "Hello?"
Three seconds later, the receiver is rammed back into its place following the age-old "Is Seymour there? Last name Butz?"
Goddamn fuckwits, Nami thinks, near close to snapping the receiver in half before slowly releasing it, one finger by one finger and methodically marching her way back towards the centre of the lobby.
"Everything OK?" Tashigi walks towards her as the elevator doors reunite once more in cheery tune. She has a simple bag slung over one shoulder adorned with zippers and what Nami suspects are Velcro pockets. Virtually pickpocket-proof, of course. In her other hand are a set of car keys, as if mocking her. On a regular day, she could easily steal those and take off without bringing a police officer as a freebie.
If only she wasn't a police officer, Nami thinks begrudgingly.
And just like that, her solution came to her.
"Is it called 'F' District for the felons?"
"Common question at the station." Tashigi answers as she throws on her indicator, unlike a drunken speeder a couple of streets back. Tashigi had ordered Nami to remember the numberplate (a jolt in the road knocked Tashigi's glasses, making her temporarily blind and unable to do so) in lieu of pursuing the driver for the case Nami had urged on her.
"Where's this idiot?" mutters Tashigi, squinting ahead in her headlight's range, "Nami, do you see him anywhere?"
'Him' being a fake drunken oaf Nami had come up with in the spur of the moment.
"Tashigi, I just got an anonymous tip from someone; says they've got a drunk friend somewhere in F District. He thinks his friend's in trouble; he won't pick up his phone and he – the caller – says his friend's racked up a debt with some of the guys there."
Of course, there was also the problem of talking Tashigi into why she should be allowed to tag along. In the end it had come down to more bullshit. The most convincing bullshit had a sliver of truth.
"I think I know who it is, Tashigi. I can identify him if I see him."
"Identify him? You've been in the city for a day and you've already seen enough people to identify someone?" she'd asked sceptically, "I don't think it'd be hard to find one drunken idiot."
"In F District? There must be dozens of them there." she'd taken a gamble there, but could see her leverage in Tashigi's expression. She'd made a point.
"What's the guy's name?"
She'd been glad she burned the paper, "Chu Kisu."
Tashigi had frowned, unfamiliar with the name. Then, exhaling loudly, she'd stormed out, "Come on."
"For God's sake," Tashigi continues muttering as she turns into another side-street, "Time after time, why can't people just live a good, honest life? I bet this guy's already got some record in the system when I find him. I wouldn't even be surprised if—"
A good, honest life huh? Nami thinks. She shifts uncomfortably in the police officer uniform Tashigi had made her change into under the logic that criminals tend to steer clear of anyone in uniform. She even has her own gun ("self-defence only") held securely in a holder in the central console. To an outsider, she seemed, absolutely, the police officer, an enforcer of the law – a 'good' person – but then people are rarely all as how they appear to be; even more rarely, all as their 'good' qualities make them to be.
"I'm sorry."
Nami blinks, sitting up straight, "I'm sorry, what?"
Tashigi looks at her concernedly in her peripheral, "I shouldn't be loading this stuff out on you. It – it's not right. I'm sorry you had to hear all that. I shouldn't… I know I shouldn't be making excuses, but I'm just tired. It's been a long week."
"Don't worry about it," Nami replies. She stares out the window at the many dark structures flying past in the dusk; craggy rocks reaching out to capsize her dingy ship barely keeping itself afloat. Her conscience is almost winning at this rate. She shakes herself, seeing those structures loom closer, closer… On the left, she saw two people, no three, four, struggling to stay afloat like she is. One of them yells as another kicks him in the ribs, another swings a fist and another cusses.
Hunter and hunted, kill or be killed, that's how it's always been.
"There, Tashigi!" Nami is surprised at herself. Her voice is a decibel away from shrieking, "There! There, left!"
One thing that could be said for police – they didn't ask stupid questions or fool around with their driving capabilities. Tashigi screeches to a stop a few metres from the scuffle and throws open the door the second the vehicle comes to a stop. Without pause, she leaps agilely out, completely within her comfort zone as she yells orders and unlocks the safety on her gun in anticipation of resistance.
Opposite the driver's side, another figure leaps to the ground with gun in hand; a little more silently, a little more gracefully, a little more within her comfort zone; for she had been doing this for much longer.
The second figure runs.