Chapter Nine – Somewhere in Pirate Academy
Nami tries to play out the rest of the day as naturally as possible after the episode in English, meaning she studiously avoids the presence of Monkey D. Luffy. All the while, the thought of apologising plays annoyingly in the back of her mind when she couldn't push it away by distracting herself. She could be upfront or casual about it. She could say she was having a bad day. She could explain herself, though she didn't have any idea how. There seems to be a reason to counter each method she comes up with and she avoids the whole process until lunchtime.
At lunchtime, it is Zoro who notices her moving to follow the flow of the crowd towards the other side of the school from their rooftop and the cafeteria.
"We're all going up to the roof," he mentions, "In case you get lost."
Nami feels a twitch in her eye. As if you're one to talk. She has noticed either Chopper or Usopp having to personally escort Zoro between classes or to anywhere he needs to go. When she made a joke about the two being chaperones, Usopp had rolled his eyes and replied, "You have no idea how accurate you are" before explaining the green-haired boy's notoriously hopeless sense of direction.
"All right," Nami replies. She turns and keeps walking, wondering if Zoro would call out again. He doesn't, and when Nami looks back, he's already gone.
The medieval plaza is still the same when Nami sits back against the wall which offers her merciful shade from the sun. It seems either the spot is completely dismissed by the entirety of the student population or none of them are even aware of its existence. There isn't even the sound of any living person nearby as the walls are virtually soundproof to the outside world: a completely silent, exclusive spot…
… Except for the one who introduced her to its existence in the first place.
It is when Nami is thoughtfully chewing on her noodles and debating whether or not to double-double check her Biology homework that a loud voice yells, "FIRE!"
The jolt makes Nami lurch forward and start choking on her food, flinging her utensils aside to automatically cover her mouth. Am I supposed to cover my nose with my shirt? Wait, do I have to soak it first—?
Then a finger lowers and pokes her right on the crown of her head and the same voice speaks again, "False alarm. It's just this girl's orange hair." A laugh in response to her exasperated exclamation ("OI!") and, "Sorry, I couldn't help it." Opposite her, Ace drops cross-legged to the ground with a wicked grin, then changing his mind and pushing out his knees halfway in front of him instead, "What's up? Apart from your middle finger," he adds.
Sighing and still looking mildly miffed in a joking matter, Nami stops herself from another snide remark and says, "Nothing new. You?"
He waves a hand, "The usual. I went home for a bit and then Luffy and I trained with Gramps before we came back. Is Luffy here today?"
"Yeah, on the rooftop. Didn't you go see him first?"
Ace never drops her gaze once, "I was. Then I noticed you here and, well…" Here his look changes, selecting his next choice of words carefully, "I know Luffy can handle himself around Pirates."
Before Nami has a chance to ask, Ace continues, "Did you and Luffy have a fight?"
"Yeah. What do you mean with what you said before?"
"Geez. I know he has a habit of pissing people off but this is a record even for him," Ace sighs, ignoring her question, "He doesn't take fights well. Not ones with words, anyway." He looks at her with a reserved look, but underneath that, Nami can see the genuine concern and sincerity, "I don't know what your fight's about but please don't go too hard on him.
"He's my little brother, after all."
"Did you come to speak on his behalf?"
"Nope, he doesn't want me meddling at all actually but if I don't, I'll be the one having to put up with his moping." He pulls a face, "I hate dealing with that. Please make up quickly for my sake." In the latter sentence, he adopts a formal, polite tone.
"It's not that easy…" Nami starts but Ace is already pushing himself off the ground and dusting off his cargo shorts, slinging a backpack over one shoulder, murmuring to himself, "OK, one job done. See you around!" he calls as he dashes towards and disappears in a wide crevice.
"Hey, you—!" Nami calls but it is no use. They boy has already disappeared without another backward glance. She sighs and sits back forcefully against the wall, wondering if she has become a pushover. The thought is almost enough to completely dispel her intent to make up with Luffy out of stubbornness.
"I'm not apologising to that idiot first. I won't," she mutters around a mouthful of noodles, chewing furiously.
Zoro doesn't mention her absence in Biology, choosing to resume another interrupted nap much to Trafalgar's annoyance. Nami feels somewhat thankful she managed to remember to complete her homework as her teacher makes the rounds, glaring at Zoro beside her right before he turns the look to her, and waits as she hastily flips through the completed sheets. With a sound of approval, he returns to the front of the room.
"Despite what you think, no one actually gets killed here," a deep voice drawls beside her, "So you don't have to look so afraid."
When Nami doesn't reply, the green head lifts and Zoro fixes her with his permanent grumpy look, "Tra-guy's pretty harmless out of all of them."
"We'll see about that after he notices you're awake," Nami whispers back, keeping her gaze straight forward. This is in part because this anatomy thing is probably crucial to her graduating and, in a significantly lesser part, because she is, for some reason, covering for this boy.
When she looks back, his head is once again buried into his arms. Is he ever awake? Nami continues making notes as a presentation plays through, labelling her diagram neatly. All throughout the class, the boy beside her never budges an inch, completely still but for the slight rise and drop of his shoulders.
When Nami arrives at the station that afternoon, sans-Luffy, Ain immediately hustles her back out.
"Wait, what—" Nami starts as the girl guides her out and around the building, towards where the cars are parked.
"Can you drive?"
"Sure, but—"
"Good. Watch your head."
"Is this even legal?" Nami cries, getting manhandled into the driver's seat, "Can't you drive?"
"Need a supervisor with me," Ain replies, shutting her passenger door, "Technically, I'm still on parole."
"But I'm not—"
"Not my concern," Ain waves a hand, "The only thing I care about is getting to the scene."
"Well, I care about my job and keeping it," Nami snaps, "So, I'm going back inside and you'll have to find someone else."
She is actually surprised she manages to get back into the station without Ain physically dragging her back. Perhaps that should have been the first clue.
Open on the desk, next to a perfect pyramid of ballpoint pens, are two files open with several loose leafs spilling out. Bold ink on the top of one reads F District—
Nami shoves aside the loose papers covering the rest of the page. Beneath the heading is an address and other numerical details Nami is not familiar with. In other neatly organised notes on the page, written by someone with contrastingly messy script, are brief sentences, describing criminal activities, areas of surveillance, reported incidents and new faces. The rest of the papers in the file are all profiles of the criminals in F District. Coming to the conclusion there is nothing important there, Nami discards that file and discreetly peeks at the other file. It is not labelled.
But the first page is titled 'Report – F District' followed by a date. A recent one; a few days after the move.
Flipping to the next page, there is a heading: 'Arlong – Fishmen Pirates'. Beneath it are tally marks, two sets of five and three stand-alone lines. Beside that is scrawled N/A. A question mark is drawn beside it. On the remainder of the page is a hierarchy chart. Arlong's name is written at the top. No picture. On the remaining branches are differing entries: some have a picture, some have a name, some have both or neither. The chart is largely incomplete, Nami can see that now. Every picture that is there is incredibly dark and black-and-white…
A photocopy, Nami realises, flipping back to the front page. Black and white. Small, discreet spots break up the letters where the ink never made it. Rifling through the rest of the papers, there are photocopies of individual profiles for each name or picture on the hierarchy chart, ordered from Arlong and descending in rank. The information is fairly limited, comprised of brief notes of sightings, criminal activities, base of operations, accounts from infiltrators and anybody who rings in with information, anonymous or otherwise. Overall, there is not much substantial evidence, and certainly not solid enough to convict anyone. Despite it all, Nami feels a sick, twisted sort of feeling of pride – she organised most of this; most of them can thank her for saving their necks from a jail sentence.
When she reaches the end, she closes the file carefully and notices a sticky note stuck to the front: 'to be added to F Dist. File'.
Arlong and his crew's names are going to be recorded into the official records. No.
A smaller thought: yes. Finally, finally something is going to be done.
A larger thought: he'll find out, he'll find out, he'll find out and—
An image now: a floor stained with red. Drip, drip, drop…
The papers, irrespective of their correct file, are bundled into her arms before she realises what she's doing. She can't trash, burn or otherwise dispose of these papers, mainly because there are so many, she'd probably have a bonfire with them and also because one set are photocopies, meaning the original notes were somewhere else and more could be easily reproduced.
Logically, her mind works quickly. There is not much substantial information yet, nothing concrete or particularly incriminating. Clearly someone is watching the gang closely, tracking their activities and location. If it is an infiltrator, there is not much Nami can do about that. She would just hope that Arlong can sniff them out himself. If it is an outside person, however, all Nami had to do was alert the gang to keep a low profile for a while, disprove any criminal activities on their part, clean up the evidence and watch their names slowly disappear from police notice.
Of course to do that, she would have to go to F District. Lord knows she never owned a mobile phone in her life and was one of the few people left who relied on landlines, eliminating any possibility of communicating with Arlong by distance.
And so, she found herself wandering back out to the police cars all lined up in a row and found the one Ain still sits in, seemingly unbothered by the lack of driver. In fact, although her posture is still rigid and stick straight, Nami has a feeling had Ain been a little less disciplined, her feet would be up on the dashboard and the radio would be leaking out easy-listening music. Instead the police scanner is on, intercepting several snippets of news as Ain fiddles with it, bored.
"What's this?" Nami waves around the stack of papers outside her open window
"An area of your interests, I'm assuming given you frequent the area."
"It might be more in the interest of an actual police officer."
"I don't like actual police officers," again, that same clipped, mocking tone carries over into Ain's words and she gives a sharp twist to the knob, completely cutting off the static sound, "I don't trust them, either." She reaches over, opens the driver's door and thrusts it outwards.
"In or out?"
"It would have been quicker if we went on the subway," Nami points out, tapping her fingers impatiently on the wheel. The red light seems to be mocking her.
"If we disappeared on the subway, Smoker would assume I went rogue."
"Stealing a police car is better?"
"I'm entitled to use it. It means I'm accepting their procedures.
"The police like that sort of thing."
The light turns green and the rest of the trip is passed in silence.
When Nami turns into F District, she has to feign nonchalance and cluelessness.
"So where are we going?"
"I'll direct you," Ain simply replies, "Make a left here."
Straight until the grey cinderblock. Then right. "Now straight. When you get to the grey cinderblock, make a right."
The second left. "Make the second left."
There's a long straight road, a sharp bend at the end. Once clear of that, keep going straight until the one-way sign. Follow that and then one more left.
Beside her, Nami listens to Ain repeat her thoughts. She is careful not to indicate or otherwise stray from their route until Ain gives her instructions. Finally, they cruise along the road around the corner from Arlong's hideout.
"Kill the engine," Ain instructs, "And ease us into that space over there," she points towards a narrow spot between two ancient cars.
"I never underwent the police driving course," Nami mutters, craning her neck to make sure she doesn't collide with anything as she painstakingly reverses into the spot. Ain, meanwhile, is already unclipping her seatbelt with a hand on the car door handle, as if ready to duck-and-roll out.
"You stay here. Don't move and wait for me to come back," Ain says. Without another word, she slips out, striding silently in her uniform up the remainder of the road and around the corner. Nami waits for a few seconds, counts to thirty more in her head. She sees and hears nothing. Then she yanks down the sleeve of her blazer to cover her hand and probes around the dashboard of the car, pushing in several compartments to open them. Gloves, a couple of notebooks, a pen, rubber bands and key chains… Finally one compartment releases with the faint clink of loose change. Using her covered hand, Nami scrapes up a few coins, cringing at the loud metallic chimes in the silence and quietly closes the small compartment. Then, with another quick check, she climbs out of the car.
Now to find a payphone.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Arlong's pleasant voice sounds in the receiver.
Nami's voice, when it comes out, sounds exactly as she'd improvised on the way to find a phone: low, guttural, completely unrecognisable as her own, "Do not speak my name. Am I on speaker?"
"Of course not. I like to keep our conversations private." The smug tone of his voice indicates he saw completely through her flimsy attempt at disguise before Nami even relents it. Without immediate threat of being caught out by her voice, she speaks normally, "You're being watched Arlong, right now. One person, no back up."
Silence. Then, "I see."
"Send out Chew or Kuroobi first to somewhere that won't garner suspicion. The person will follow them. I'll give you more information then."
She waits while Arlong gives his orders. After a pause, he says, "What have you found out?"
"You're on a watch list right now and on the brink of being added to a list of confirmed criminals. It's a hassle to sort out once that line has been crossed. I suggest keeping a low profile for a while, just until this whole thing blows over."
"It didn't take long for the police dogs," Arlong remarks, "I could even say… they seem to have caught on very quickly; almost as if they have been anticipating us."
"The city might be a bit more competent than other places," Nami replies coolly, "Don't forget you have a reputation already and the anonymous tip to boot."
"I suppose the anonymous tip could have played a part."
Nami ignores the small dig and continues, "That's only my suggestion. But I've warned you. They have their eye on you."
"Is that a threat?"
"Information. Information that I have always given you."
There is a long, weighted pause. Nami glances around her once more, paranoid of having a witness to this event. But the phone booth is set quite far out of the way of the normal crowds and passageways, set in a small, deserted alleyway. The paranoia stays with her, almost making her jump when Arlong's voice finally comes through.
"I see."
He hangs up. Perhaps if she didn't know better, Nami might be relieved she'd been cut loose. But she knew there would be a follow-up call; a light reminder for payment with heavier consequences.
She replaces the receiver and makes her way back to the car. Only when she is back inside its cab does she release a weighted exhale. It seems ironic.
No one around here would dare hurt me now, she thinks to herself. Usually it took a week or so, but Arlong's influence would definitely be settling in the territory of this district now and his underlings' faces would be well known to outsiders. Including hers. The red-haired girl, Arlong's little pet. She grimaces at the likely nickname (considering past residences) but if the status would keep her out of most harm's way, she wouldn't complain.
"It felt strange." Ain finally talks as the car wounds out from the meandering roads and twisted turns of F District, "The two men I followed."
"Were they suspicious?"
"I thought I could catch them, but they weren't doing anything wrong. I should have stayed," she only murmurs this very, very quietly to herself, in a way that if Nami hadn't been actively paying attention, she would have missed it completely. Then silence follows, as the two sit, contemplating.
"It should have been a good lead," she says instead, "You didn't do anything wrong either."
Ain doesn't reply and she stays quiet for the rest of the trip.
Nami's can distinctly feel the knuckles of her hand crack and splinter when she guides the car back into the lot for she grips the steering wheel so tightly. There, in the exact centre of the space stands Tashigi, her arms folded across her chest and a direct glare that could freeze right through the windshield. Below her breath, Ain sighs sharply, an answering frown marring her features.
"Not a word," Ain hisses before Nami can make any sort of apologetic gesture or at the very least a gesture to usher her superior from the space. As it is, she awkwardly idles in the open lot, not sure what is expected of her in this situation. Does she cut the engine? Get out and try to salvage what seems like a definite loss of her job? Then, Tashigi abruptly strides to the passenger's window and raps firmly on the bulletproof pane.
Ain calmly lets the window down, "Yes?"
"Where have you been?"
"Investigating a lead."
"You're supposed to have an officer of the station accompanying you. Nami does not qualify in that regard."
"I'm meant to have a supervisor."
"An approved supervisor, which is predetermined by the police."
"Nami, myself and the borrowed car – that is well within my privileges as predetermined by the police as long as I remain an unarmed and civil passenger – have all returned safely to the station without mishap. Nami can support that. We were investigating an official lead and I have information gained from it. I would be happy to share what I've learnt if both of us can have immunity from—"
"If you put her in any danger; not even considering that you have still violated the conditions of your parole—"
"I never endangered Nami," Ain rebuts smoothly, "She drove me there and back. That's it. I investigated alone.
"As for the conditions of my parole, perhaps there is a technicality in there that agrees with you. However, as I have said, I have gained new information that none of your scouts or inside men or whoever you've got on it have managed to gain. I will only share voluntarily if we are both granted immunity from punishment."
Tashigi still fumes, suspicion and anger clearly written in her features.
"I'm not a police officer, Tashigi-san. I have the same rights of voluntary sharing of information as any citizen. Which is more important?"
"Did Nami have any knowledge of the conditions of your parole?"
"No," Ain replies immediately without any distinct change of tone or speech, "I only asked a favour of a friend. She had no idea." She's a better liar than I am, Nami thinks in wonder.
Tashigi seems to buy this, at least. She stands still in suspicion for several seconds, and then she abruptly speaks, "I can only offer as much as a slap on the wrist for violating our rules, particularly Nami, for leaving without permission. I'll have to set some sort of example within the station but as far as severe punishment goes, I'll let it slide in exchange for the information. However, I feel obliged to tell you that if this information does not prove as useful as you imply, I will contact your parole officer, Ain." She looks briefly over at Nami, "And you are not completely in the clear either." Her gaze switches back, "Do we have an agreement?"
Ain doesn't hesitate, "Agreed."
Nami had expected Smoker to come marching out of his office, agreements between his subordinates be damned, and make an example of the two of them regardless. But when Ain re-emerges from the elevator alone and calmly takes a seat at her desk, the lobby is silent.
"Safe, for now," Ain says.
"I thought you said we didn't have any new information."
"It's easy to lie."
"It's kind of a complicated lie…"
"Not really, the best lies are the simplest ones. Besides, leads can change all the time. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary if some things I said don't match up tomorrow or a week later.
"It's like I said, Nami: safe, for now."
What a day, Nami trudges up the road, then the path, to her home, subtly dreading the stack of assigned homework she'd have to complete before dinner. She never wanted a late night; particularly when circumstances required her to wake up early on most mornings.
Maybe I'd better check the apartment in F District first thing tomorrow… It had been too risky to do so previously.
The sound of knocking snaps her out of her thoughts. When she looks up, she sees the shape of a suited man raising his hand to rap on the door once more.
"No one's home," she says, approaching him. Her hand finds the key and extracts it from her pocket, "Until now. Can I help you?"
"Would you happen to be a Miss Nojiko?"
"She's my older sister, but she's working right now and won't be back until late. Can I take a message?" The man is odd, Nami can't help but think. He is dressed formally and his face reflects a matching expression, yet there is something else beneath those small, beady eyes. Nami recognises the look, having utilised it herself many times; the look of an assessment, of analysing the target in quick succession.
"If you could inform her a routine inspection and interview will be forthcoming, I will appreciate it," he says. The message is polite, the tone is anything but. It makes a sense of foreboding rise in her.
"Inspection?" she blinks, one hand on the handle.
"Yes." Despite the clear question in Nami's tone, the man chooses to ignore this and turns to depart. Nami opens her mouth to ask more directly but he interrupts her without turning around.
"Please also give your sister best regards from Nezumi."