Chapter Ten – Somewhere in a Restaurant
"Good work today, Nojiko!" one of her co-workers, changed into a formfitting black dress complete with freshly applied red lipstick, waves at her as she leaves the change room. Nojiko responds with a raised eyebrow and knowing smile, "Have mercy on the poor soul."
"Never," her co-worker responds, grinning wickedly, "See you tomorrow."
"Have fun."
"There's no reason that can't be you," another girl, whose name continues to escape Nojiko since their first introduction, remarks. The girl is younger, a little above Nami's age and a high-school dropout, but it was out of choice. She didn't lack intelligence or work ethic, which was enough for Nojiko's good favour.
"I wish," Nojiko says in reply, successfully finding her shirt and slipping it over her head, "I just don't have time."
"Nojiko-san, you work too hard, too much and too late. There's nothing wrong with taking a break sometimes, you know. The invitation's always open if you want to go out with us sometime."
"Thanks, but I really couldn't."
The girl doesn't push her. (For that, Nojiko can't tell if she's more relieved or disappointed.)
"All right. Suit yourself."
On the way home, Nojiko tunes into the usual radio station, the one with the EDM remixes. Nami thinks she hates them, but in reality the music doesn't bother her. To the contrary, it makes her think; listening to the repetitive beats her co-workers always hum when re-enacting embarrassing situations that occurred at the party that night before.
So this is what it would be like. Well, not really. Listening to the same music isn't the same as being there.
Nojiko couldn't be sure of what her expression is when she listens to it, but she didn't want to take chances with Nami's uncanny observational skills. So she never played them with Nami beside her.
She makes sure to turn the station to one blaring oldies' tunes when she approaches the turn-off to the apartment.
"I'm home!" Nojiko shuts the door behind her and kicks off her shoes, balancing herself against the wall to keep the bag of takeaway steady, "Nami?"
Soon, after Nojiko discovers her sister sitting cross-legged atop her bed reading her beloved books on cartography (a relief to see Nami acting her usual self again), the two are seated once more at the table but this time with plates of grilled vegetable kebabs and kale chips between them.
"I have to say, after tangerine chicken, this is a bit…"
"I thought we'd try something different. Besides, we still have leftover cheesecake from last night. Or did you forget?" she quips as Nami's expression turns confused. Quickly, the younger girl backtracks, "No. Yeah, I remember."
"Sure." Nojiko smiles but she can't deny that small, small part of her that feels a little… disappointed.
You're being ridiculous. It's leftover cheesecake, for God's sake, of course she'd forget about it.
(Not if she actually paid attention when you talk).
"So how was your day?" Nojiko pushes aside the nagging voices in the back of her mind further and further away until it almost disappears. It's just been a busy day. She's just tired. It's nothing to get worked up about. Yet the small frustration doesn't disappear despite her rationalisations, "Anything interesting happen?"
"Nothing at all. You?"
Liar.
"Nothing either. The usual."
Nojiko never confronts Nami, employing a strict 'don't-ask-don't-tell' policy when it comes to engaging her. Any other way and it would surely cause her to withdraw more than what she had originally. Nami is stubborn but she isn't stupid. She would share anything that needed to be.
Eventually, she does
"A guy came around asking for you today."
"A guy? Who?"
"I don't know. He didn't say his name." Nami pauses for a bite of kebab, swallows and continues, "He was in a suit, though and said something about sending his best regards? I don't know, something like that. Sound familiar?"
Nojiko clenches, hard, on her cup with enough force to shake it and the liquid inside laps threateningly towards the edge. The one thought stabs her mind and remains there like a shot arrow. She could snap the shaft off but the point could only burrow deeper the harder she tries to force it out.
Nezumi. Nezumi. It has to be Nezumi. Why now? Why today? They said I have more time, they said—
"Nojiko?"
"It could be someone from work," she forces out eventually, feeling the clock tick-tick-tick the seconds away, stripping her of her control over the situation. Firmly, she continues, "Yeah, maybe one of my bosses or superiors; maybe I'm getting a promotion!" She adds a grin for good measure and hopes it isn't too much. From the way Nami blinks at her with an odd expression on her face (and certainly not one that expresses trust), Nojiko strongly suspects this act will not go over.
Tell her the truth?
No, don't.
The urge is so strong, it almost makes Nojiko bite her lip, her standard habit in stressful situations. She remembers this dilemma – it had originally occurred almost ten years ago, when Nojiko had been beginning to comprehend her family's relatively threadbare lifestyle. It was after Nami had received her daily, slightly-altered hand-me-downs. She had thrown a fit, demanding why they never got new clothes or new anything for that matter. It was one of the few times Nojiko had seen her mother look truly saddened, after Nami had stormed out of the room. From that moment, Nojiko began piecing her isolated suspicions together and finally managed to somewhat understand their living conditions. Her mother knew this. One day when they were cleaning up together and Nami was out on one of her burglaries at the local bookstore, Nojiko had finally asked.
"Tell her the truth?"
Instantly her mother replied: "No, don't."
The tone had implied it all. Her mother would take care of this. Her mother would fix this. Her mother could do this. Nojiko hadn't the lack of faith to argue. She believed her mother would make it all better.
Now, she is in the same position, once again in the same dilemma.
Tell her the truth?
Her own pride and guilt to live up to her only mother's standards flare up almost instantly: No, don't.
It's OK. I can fix this. She never wants to see that expression on Nami's face ever again.
(Drip, drip, drop… Red, red, red)
"Really, Nami, it's nothing to worry about. I'm sure it's just someone from work. We're pretty much unreachable since we don't have phones. It wouldn't be weird if someone had to come around here to find me."
"Wouldn't they know you'd still be working?"
Nojiko casually shrugs, "Someone from another workplace maybe? I can barely keep my own schedule straight; I can hardly expect anyone else to. It's probably someone from the day café who didn't know I was working tonight."
"OK." Nami looks back down to eat, seemingly accepting her explanation quietly.
The situation still feels like anything but.
As soon as dinner had ended and all the cleaning up done, Nami made an excuse of needing to finish up on some homework and retreated to her room. Nojiko, likewise, retreats to her own room and paces a while; her fingers running through her hair in thought.
The walls of the apartment were pretty thin. She would be able to hear if Nami moves from her room.
With that thought, Nojiko stops pacing and moves her fingers from her hair to the underside of her mattress. Lifting tentatively, the one open envelope greets her, as perfect as the first day when it arrived in the mail, the same day as the bank statements. She scoops it up, holding it by her nails as if it might burn her. An overly fancy insignia is stamped on the corner in bold black ink. Nojiko remembers it well. It had been the same symbol on the plaques in that cold room, on the corners of the notepads and on the side of the pen she used to sign her signature with.
He said I could have time, Nojiko thought with frustration, tearing out the damning piece of paper.
Beneath all the usual courtesies were the words in bold: A routine inspection and interview will commence one week from the date of which this notice is sent (please see top). Any and all members who hold custody must be present at the current residence that this notice is sent at 3:00PM. Cooperation and punctuality would be greatly appreciated.
PLEASE NOTE: FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH THE PROCEDURE MAY RESULT IN WITHDRAWAL OF CUSTODY OVER ANY MINORS UNDER THE GUARDIAN'S CURRENT CARE.
I could lose custody over her, Nojiko sits down on the edge of the bed, toying with the paper in her hands, the paper that ultimately held her sentence, whatever that may be. She wishes for it to be in her favour.
This couldn't happen if she and her sister were anywhere near Arlong.
Rather, the exact opposite needs to happen.
As twisted as it sounds, association with a boy with an influential commander for a grandfather should point somewhere in the right direction, right?
After she carefully replaces the letter under her mattress, Nojiko goes to Nami's room. Remembering Nami's delicate temper and tendency of blunt stubbornness should she be rubbed the wrong way, Nojiko takes care to knock before she enters this time. This could go either perfectly right or horribly wrong.
"Yeah?" Nami looks up briefly from her notebook when Nojiko enters. She actually has a pen tucked behind her ear, the picture of studious academic student. Please preserve this image when they come here.
"I never asked about your fight with…" she has to pause, "Condoriano. Is everything all right now?"
"Yeah, we sorted it out." But Nami's downcast eyes give her away.
"OK." Nojiko crosses the room and questions with her eyes when she approaches Nami's desk. Her sister waves a 'go-ahead' hand and Nojiko sits down, twisting the chair so it faces the bed. Nami props herself up against the wall and marks her place in the book.
"We both know this fight has nothing to do with Condoriano."
"Yeah…"
"Luffy?"
"Yeah…"
"You're going to have to give me something more substantial than a 'yeah'." Oh, God. Quickly, Nojiko backtracks. Less mother. More sister. "I… I just mean I'm worried. This is one of your first actual arguments with… someone uninvolved since… what happened."
Luckily Nami remains placid, "I know. It's strange for me too. I don't know how it started, I just… lost my temper, I think. It won't happen again. I'll fix it."
"Hey, I'm not blaming you," Nojiko replies calmly, "Nor am I pressuring you to patch things up now…" Um. She isn't quite sure how to phrase her next words. Nami picks up on her hesitance.
"But…?" her sister speaks warily.
"… Please don't let it escalate," Nojiko says it like a question, her first mistake. Her second is letting it hang there in the tense silence without elaborating further. Immediately, that provokes Nami.
"Do you think I'm going to get in a fight with him?" Nami asks in disbelief.
"Well, given previous—"
"That was ten years ago!"
"Not true! At the Shimura home, you had their daughter in a headlock, you punched their son—"
"Did you hear what they called us and our mother?" Nami retorts, anger in her eyes.
"Of course I did! That doesn't mean you can just go over and clobber them—" she cuts herself off. It wouldn't do to start being a hypocrite now. She knows she was thinking of doing the exact same thing back then, only Nami, as ever, had acted first, consequences be damned.
"It doesn't matter," Nojiko exhales sharply, "You could get away with that stuff when you were younger, but you can't anymore. Can you just listen?
"Nami, I can't… I can't have you getting into any trouble. Please. Your fight wasn't anything serious, was it?"
"It was a stupid argument," Nami sounds exasperated and she throws her book to one side, her gaze suddenly intense, "What is this about? Why are you suddenly asking about all this?"
That pride flares up with a vengeance; that pride that convinces Nojiko to push her sister to the sidelines.
"I'm worried," she answers honestly, "It's an academy for Pirates, of people that are like…" A image of Luffy and Ace hooting like little kids running through the rain and Luffy sprawled on the backseat of her car and Ace yelling at him to put his seatbelt on, of all things, all flash by in her mind. She feels sorry for throwing them in the shadows. But not enough to ease her pride.
"Like Arlong," she finishes, guilt clawing at the words leaving her mouth, "It's not like your previous schools. I just don't want you to get hurt by any more Pirates." Finally, that image of Nami smiling brightly at these two supposed Pirates stains the back of her mind.
"How did you know about Pirate Academy?" Nami says, her voice subdued. It isn't angry anymore; rather it sounds like how Nojiko feels: guilty, "I never told you."
"It's pretty common knowledge around town. A few workmates told me what it's like, what it's supposed to be, when I mentioned my younger sister is going there."
Nami nods, "I see. So you always knew?"
Nojiko cocks her head, "Weren't you going to tell me?"
"It wasn't intentional," Nami quickly defends herself but sobers, "It… just never crossed my mind. I think of it as 'Pirate Academy'… Did I call it that just before?"
"Yeah."
"But it doesn't feel like it," Nami seems suddenly very preoccupied with her notebook spine, "No, that's not right. It did, sometimes, but not in the way I was expecting? If that even makes sense. It's different," she tries again, "But it's not because I look around and think of how I'm surrounded by Pirates… No, ugh—" she flips the poor book again in frustration.
"It's OK," Nojiko whispers quietly, afraid of disrupting her sister's sudden revelry. Nami was struggling to find the words. Nojiko had never known Nami to not have a witty retort ready at all times. Her retorts were often all lies of course. It had always been very easy for Nami to lie with confidence. For once, Nojiko can see Nami is definitely not bluffing.
(Could she even say the same?)
"I'm not surrounded by my idea of Pirates," Nami speaks slowly, deliberately, testing each word for its honesty before proceeding confidently, "That's why I never told you."
"So… it just feels like an ordinary school, with nice Pirates?"
Nami pulls a face, "I wouldn't go that far."
Nojiko bursts out laughing, "Let me try again. Pirates, but not Pirates?"
"Applause!" Nami cheers, clapping her hands furiously as if to imitate an ovation, "Now the bit about the school."
"Is it worse than an ordinary school?"
"No, better! They have pillars and a fountain and statutes of Pirate-not-Pirates everywhere and the receptionist plays darts with her pens and…" she pauses, to breathe, to think and when she talks again, her voice is quieter, as if in small wonder and part annoyance (though she's smiling), "… and the people are all fucked up. Every single one of them."
"You never told me about your first day at school," Nojiko hints when the lull lapses into thoughtful silence, "We were both busy at the time."
For moments, Nami is quiet and Nojiko thinks she might have pushed for too much too soon. But then her little sister crosses her legs on top of her bed, leaning forward with a cheeky expression, "If you commit, you're going to have to listen to the whole thing, no exceptions."
"Over cheesecake?" Nojiko proposes.
Nami seems to hesitate for a second, weighing something in her mind. Finally she looks up.
"Actually, do you mind if I give it to a friend tomorrow?"
"Even if it has mould on it," Nojiko promises.
Somehow, in some weird way, this is working out.
When Luffy had come to the café two days ago, Makino could tell something wasn't right. Instead of pleading for food, let alone attempting to merely steal anything (usually she deliberately left out an assorted platter, although she knew for a fact Luffy was incredibly proud of himself for all his successful 'robberies'), Luffy had walked very purposefully upstairs and remained there. Later, he only poked his head back down to tell her that if his grandfather came by to warn him so he could escape through the window. Again, he asked for no food, or greeted any of her customers, as was his routine. Then, Makino had begun to feel worried. She prepared as much meat as she was able, hoping to coax him down with the aroma to no avail. Eventually, she had to leave a plate right outside his door, lest Ace come in and devour everyone's servings without knowing.
Next, she attempted to talk to him. With the empty plate in hand, she straightened and knocked on his door, "Luffy?" This actually unnerved her. Luffy never left his door closed, even when his grandfather visited and subsequently beat him for the state of his room.
"What is it?" He hadn't sounded like he was crying or had been. That had been the only relief.
"Do you want to come out for a moment?"
"No."
"Are you OK?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want seconds?"
"No. Thanks."
She just about beat down the door herself then, sure someone was holding a gun to his head in there and forcing him to recite lines. Then, Ace had put a hand on her shoulder, gently but firmly stopping her. When she looked at him, Ace just shook his head. Then he motioned politely for her to move and he entered the room himself.
That night, Makino fell asleep to one of their sparring matches. The next morning, she patched Luffy up. He'd said, "Sorry, Makino." She forgave him, but he didn't say anything more. Ace didn't have so much as a scratch. They hadn't fought the second night.
Now, the next morning, Makino still doesn't know what to think of the situation. No one had even talked about it and she didn't want to pry either. Ace left before the crack of dawn, probably to see his friends, before she could ask him. So that was that. She couldn't focus too much on it, not when there were customers to serve.
The bell rung and footsteps approached the counter as Makino was squeezing out whipped cream onto plates of assorted slice, "Please just give me a minute and I'll be right with you."
"It's OK. Take your time," Nami replies.
"Nami?" Makino abruptly turns around. The uniformed girl gives her a sheepish wave with one hand, the other holding what looks like a cake box.
"Now, Nami, you can't come around and freely advertise in my café," Makino jokingly scolds, picking up the plates.
"You have to give the other cafés a sporting chance," Nami replies easily. Makino smiles and reaches down to pluck up another plate, holding two in one hand, eyeing the final plate with disdain.
"I'm sorry to ask, but would you mind helping me carry that plate and that cappuccino over there?"
"No, of course." Nami falls into the role seamlessly, placing the box down upon the countertop with her bag in a seat.
They converse as they travel back to the counter afterward.
"You're here earlier than usual."
"I wanted to make sure I got here before Luffy left."
"You could have spared twenty minutes."
Nami giggles at that and raises her eyebrows at the new plates lining the table, ready to be served, "Do you still want some help?"
"If you would be so kind."
She's a natural, Makino thinks, watching Nami effortlessly work the room with natural charisma and confidence. She is so busy smiling like a proud mother, she doesn't even notice when his form comes sleepily down the stairs.
"Makino~" he complains, yawning, "I want to sleep more."
"Good morning, Luffy," she smiles, turning slightly to take in the familiar view: messy hair, crooked shirt collar with half of it upturned and the half-lidded eyes. Automatically, she goes over to straighten up his appearance and he doesn't protest, used to the routine. He hasn't even jumped out the window to go to school since…
"Mornin'…" he slurs.
"I think this is the last one," Nami approaches the counter, grinning as she spots the plate of tartlets.
They both spot each other at the same time. The tension in the air is almost physically suffocating. Quickly, Makino smooths out Luffy's shirt and makes a rushed escape, murmuring, "I'll leave you two alone," and grabs the plate before Nami can protest. Luffy suddenly looks wide awake, a feat at this time of day.
He doesn't look happy though, Makino thinks concernedly, and that is much rarer.
Nami can actually physically feel her palms start to sweat when she is fixed with that gaze. The cake box lies between the two of them, still innocuously perched on the counter, but Nami is afraid to move in case Luffy simply decides to brush past her. She should probably say something.
"Hey," she greets, "Good morning."
He doesn't budge an inch, "What do you want?"
Well… OK. Despite her purpose, a flare of annoyance rises in her but she suppresses it. Calm down, calm down… this is what caused this in the first place…
She glances at the clock above the counter and says, "Can we talk on the way to school?"
Although he still looks withdrawn and sceptical, he nods. Nami catches his curious gaze drifting to the cake box and the slight movements of his features as he inhales.
She smiles, "Do you want to bet on it?" She tries to bait him with her eyes, urging him to remember the words. Although he seems to be fighting it, she is sure he does. He's just too stubborn to play along with her.
"We're going, Makino!" he calls, turning to go without another word. Nami hopes the disappointment doesn't show on her face, but she turns around anyway and rounds the corner of the counter to say goodbye to Makino properly. By the time she turns back around, the door already swings shut and Luffy is gone.
Nami has to hastily grab her things to avoid being left behind. She turns and waves at Makino once more before she ducks out of the door. At least true to his word, Luffy waits for her by the railing, the guarded expression still dominating his face.
It remains that tense silence for the first minute. It feels much longer. Finally, realising that talking was part of the deal, Nami pipes up, "I know you're refusing to talk to me right now. So I'm going to go first.
"I'm sorry, but not for all of it. I'm sorry for snapping at you and yelling. I'm sorry for accusing you of things like they were wrong to do. But I'm not going to apologise for the words I said. I meant them, every single word and I'm not going to wish I could take them back." She takes a breath, waiting for a reaction. There is none and she feels safe to continue, "I was uncomfortable, Luffy. I wish you didn't keep trying to push me when I said no. I think… I feel that you might be mad because I don't trust you as much as you seem to trust me. But that's how I am. I can't trust easily and I need time to think by myself sometimes. I'm not going to apologise for that."
"But for everything else," Luffy suddenly talks, his voice flat and empty, "Everything else you can apologise for?"
"I can," Nami nods, "I am sorry for the way I treated you. I wish I could take that back." This is getting way too sentimental and heavy. Nami resists the urge to fiddle with something out of discomfort and instead turns to look level with Luffy. He's looking at her; those black eyes like camera lenses snapping a picture with every occasional blink for analysis. It's unnerving being on this side of the conversation. Despite her best intentions, her fingers curl firmly around her bangle and squeeze until the metal nearly cuts into her skin.
She doesn't expect the sudden bump into her shoulder, enough to jolt her but not knock her down onto the pavement.
Then Luffy's laugh rings out, as familiar as sunlight in the morning. Nami can pick out the distinctive notes in it by now, the long shrieking first note and the short, happy 'ha-ha-ha-ha' that follows it.
"Don't worry about it," he says when he draws breath, "Come sit with us today?" It's a question, not a statement or an expectation and Nami smiles.
"Of course," she replies, "… But only if you win the bet."
"Chocolate cheesecake," Luffy hollers, loud enough that passer-bys look at the two with a bemused expression.
"Correct!" Nami flips open the lid… and is greeted with an empty space.
"I ate it before we left," the boy beside her adds unnecessarily, "It was delicious."
The same passer-bys could risk a second look and see the red-haired girl with outstretched arms like claws chasing an overjoyed boy that runs with his hat bobbing behind him. His laugh bounces off the pavements and buildings and could be heard over the traffic of early commuters. The girl's yelling can be heard too.
"It was supposed to be for everybody!"
"Does it matter?"
"YES!"