Skies of Our Youth

by lalagirl1201

In a world of textbooks, internships, and late-night ramen, the Straw Hats navigate college life, careers, and the chaos of growing up. Between romance, drama, action, and friendship, they're chasing dreams—and each other—one wild day at a time in this modern AU.

4. July

July

The morning sun was already high, blazing in a cloudless sky as the crew gathered around Robin's car in the driveway, the trunk open and half-packed. A couple of duffel bags sat neatly in the back, along with a collapsible tent, a small folding table, a battered old notebook, and a tightly-rolled sleeping mat. Robin stood by the driver's side, cool and calm as always, dressed in light desert-ready clothes and a wide-brimmed hat.

"You're seriously only bringing this?" Nami asked, arms crossed, eyeing the sparse supplies like she was sizing up a robbery target.

Usopp chimed in beside her, tugging at a backpack strap. "You're gonna be in the desert, Robin. With, like… sand and heat and bugs that live in sand and heat. You need more stuff!"

Robin smiled, unbothered. "I've packed exactly what I need. There will be supply drops every week. Besides, traveling light makes it easier to move quickly, if needed."

Chopper gasped. "Why would you need to move quickly?! Are there desert monsters?!"

Robin gave him a teasing, mysterious smile. "Perhaps."

Franky handed her a sleek solar charger he'd customized the night before. "In case you need to power up your phone or need a laser cannon."

"Why would I need a laser cannon?" Robin said.

Franky winked. "You say that now."

Zoro didn't say much, just gave her a small nod. Sanji, on the other hand, was a dramatic mess.

"My sweet Robin-chwan, gone for a whole month! In the dry, miserable heat of the desert! Let me go with you—I'll cook for the whole dig team! I'll fan you with palm leaves!"

"You'll melt in thirty minutes," Zoro muttered.

"Then I'll melt nobly," Sanji declared.

Robin chuckled and gave him a pat on the arm before turning to each of them. "I'll miss you all. But this trip is important. There are ruins we've only seen from satellite images… it's exciting."

Brook wiped a tear away. "Please sing to the scorpions for me."

"You got it," Robin said with a nod.

One by one, they hugged her or gave her a wave.

Nami gave a tight squeeze "Well, call us when your flight lands please. I don't care what time it is."

Robin laughed. "I will, don't worry."

Jinbe gave her a steady, respectful handshake. Luffy was quiet.

When she finally got into the car and started the engine, she gave them all one last smile through the rolled-down window. "I'll be back before you know it."

They all waved and cheered as she pulled out and down the road. The sound of her car faded until it was gone.

There was a beat of silence, the kind that only comes when someone important just left.

"Well," Franky said, slapping his hands together. "Back to work, yeah?"

Everyone slowly began to break off, heading to their respective tasks.

Nami turned and bumped shoulders with Luffy, who startled like a kid caught doing something bad. "Luffy, are you okay?"

"Uh—yeah! Totally fine! I gotta go—work—bugs—bye!" he said quickly, and before she could say anything else, he bolted down the path like a rocket, disappearing around the corner of the house.

Nami stood there, eyebrows raised. "…Okay?"

---

Luffy was soon deep in the woods, a bug net in one hand and a mason jar clutched in the other. The only sounds were chirping cicadas and rustling leaves. He moved slowly, eyes scanning every tree trunk, every bush, every patch of grass.

A flash of movement caught his eye—bright wings. A butterfly.

"YES," he whispered, lunging with the net.

Whiff!

The butterfly floated gently away, completely undisturbed.

Luffy stood still for a moment, staring up at the sky. Then he let out a long sigh and flopped down onto the grass, arms splayed out, bug net discarded beside him.

"…Man."

The sun filtered through the canopy above, warm and soft. He thought of crumbs. And faces. And missed signs.

He groaned into the grass. "Why are bugs easier than people…"

Luffy had always thought Nami was pretty—ever since their first, nearly fateful run-in. She'd spilled his Orange Julius all over him when they quite literally bumped into each other, then tried to pick his pocket.

Back then, he'd never encountered a pickpocket before. Growing up in a rural town, his idea of one came from exaggerated city stories—greasy old men lurking in alleys, the kind of guys he'd imagined himself heroically punching in the face. Not… Nami.

Somehow, by the grace of god or sheer dumb luck, she'd accepted his offer to move in with him and Zoro. That left the three of them in that old, nearly falling-apart house.

He remembered the first conversation he had with Ace and Sabo about her. It was during his first year in the city, back when he wasn't in college yet and was still unemployed. When his brothers heard he'd finally moved, they came to visit.

The house hadn't been remodeled by Franky yet, so it was pretty awful. There was barely any furniture—Luffy and Zoro didn't care. Nami had just started painting the walls and picking up odds and ends. They had a busted-up couch, a plastic folding table with camping chairs for a dining setup, and no TV stand—the TV just sat on the floor.

His room wasn't much better: a mattress on the floor and a garbage bag full of his clothes. That was it. Zoro's was somehow worse—just a sleeping bag and clothes strewn across the floor with no bag at all.

It was a complete bachelor pad, and somehow Nami had waltzed right into it.

That day, she had just left for the university by the time Ace, Sabo, and Zoro were hanging out with him in the house.

Ace looked around the room, taking in the peeling walls, the wonky furniture, the camping chairs, and the faint smell of cheap takeout that always lingered. Then he turned to Luffy, one brow arched, smirking.

"So," he said, arms crossing, "you live with a girl now."

Sabo snorted, glancing toward the freshly painted wall Nami had clearly done herself. "She seems cool. What's her name again?"

"Nami!" Luffy said immediately, grinning wide. "She's awesome!"

Ace raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And how exactly did you meet this awesome girl? You don't have a job, you're not in school, and you've been in the city for what, a few weeks? Did you just pick her off the street or something?"

Before Luffy could answer, Zoro chimed in from his spot on the floor, where he was lazily sipping from a can of something suspicious. "She tried to rob him, and Luffy thought she'd make a good roommate."

There was a pause.

Sabo blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Luffy shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yeah! She needed a place to stay, and she's really smart and funny—and she hasn't stolen from us since, so it worked out."

Ace looked like he was teetering between being impressed and deeply concerned. "Only you would see someone actively trying to rob you and think, 'Hey, she'd make a great roommate.'"

"She gave the wallet back!" Luffy defended, arms crossed. "And she apologized! Sort of. Eventually."

"She also threatened to stab you with a pen," Zoro added, completely deadpan.

"That was after I accidentally ate all the groceries she just bought," Luffy muttered, a little sheepishly.

Sabo chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Ace leaned back on the lopsided couch, which creaked ominously beneath him. "Well… she is pretty hot. Knowing you, that's probably not why you let her move in—but still."

Zoro scoffed. "Just because she's hot doesn't mean I trust her. I'm telling you, one day I'm gonna wake up and all my stuff's gonna be gone."

Luffy snorted. "You don't even have stuff."

Zoro jabbed a finger in his direction. "Neither do you."

"…Touche."

Ace glanced over at Sabo. "What about you? Thoughts?"

Sabo didn't look up from his phone. "She's cute. Has good taste in books too."

Ace raised a brow. "Who are you texting?"

"Koala," Sabo said casually. "Girl in my class. We're in a few of the same clubs. Got our final project due next week, last one we need before graduation."

"Ohhh," Ace grinned, leaning in. "Is she cute?"

Sabo didn't answer, but the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth said plenty.

Ace stretched his arms behind his head, settling deeper into the couch with a smirk. "Anyway, Luffy, don't go getting any ideas just because you live with a chick now."

Luffy blinked, completely unbothered and oblivious. "What do you mean?"

Ace gave him a long look, like he was debating how much to say. "I mean don't start thinking it's something more just 'cause you see her in pajamas or whatever."

Sabo snorted. "You're assuming he even notices stuff like that."

"I do notice stuff!" Luffy said, puffing out his cheeks. "Like… like when she made that really good soup last week! Or when she found a desk for super cheap and fixed it up with spray paint and it actually looks cool now."

Ace shook his head, grinning. "Alright, alright. Just saying—living with someone can mess with your head. Don't mistake familiarity for feelings, y'know?"

Luffy tilted his head, genuinely confused. "But… I do like Nami."

Everyone froze.

Zoro looked over from the floor where he'd been half-lounging, eyebrow raised. "…Like her how?"

Luffy shrugged. "I mean, I like her as a person. She's cool. She's funny. She yells a lot, but she always makes sure we eat. She painted my room without me even asking—and she didn't paint it an ugly color or anything."

Ace and Sabo exchanged a knowing look, then sighed in unison.

"Forget it, Luffy," Sabo said, patting him on the shoulder. "You're too pure for your own good."

Ace smirked. "Hopeless, really."

Luffy never really understood what Ace meant by "seeing her in pajamas or whatever"—not until one truly horrifying day, a few months later.

Nami had been in the shower for at least 45 minutes, and Luffy was practically vibrating as he paced outside the bathroom, bladder on the verge of mutiny. The water had been off for ten minutes, but the door was still locked, and there was no sign of her coming out.

He banged on the door. "C'mon, Nami! I gotta pee!"

"Hold it! Be patient—I'm almost done!" she shouted back.

From the couch, Zoro cracked one eye open. "Just piss outside."

"I did that once, and the neighbor said he was gonna call the cops," Luffy whined.

"Well," Zoro muttered, turning back over, "your choice. Jail time or the witch's wrath."

Luffy groaned, doing a frantic potty dance. Then he huffed, "Screw this—I'm breaking the door down."

Zoro chuckled. "I'll start writing your eulogy."

Luffy backed up a few steps, braced himself—and kicked the door open.

"Nami, just cover your eyes or something, 'cause I'm gonna—"

He froze.

Nami was standing there, her hair still wet from the shower, skin dewy and glowing. She was completely naked except for a red thong, one leg propped up on the counter as she casually rubbed lotion into her thigh.

Time slowed. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was death. His brain short-circuited. His eyes, traitorous and wide, took in way too much. It was like he couldn't pull his eyes off her form. Her smooth, long legs. Her perfectly shaped butt. Her short orange hair kissed her slightly freckled shoulders. Her large, silky breasts. Her pink, perky nip-

"LUFFY!"

A full bottle of shampoo flew at his face. Nami wrapped herself in a towel with the speed of a professional quick-change artist and launched after him.

Luffy yelped and bolted down the hall as Nami chased him, the house echoing with murderous threats.

That night, when Luffy's body ached for his attention in the early hours of the morning, he answered. Every time he masturbated, he never pictured anyone while he did it. Just a faceless woman. But that night, for some reason, Nami popped into his head. Maybe it was just because she was the first naked girl he'd actually seen in real life.

He felt guilty after he finished. He contemplated a lot of things about life as he just stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night. He didn't get a lick of sleep.

For about a week, he couldn't bring himself to look at Nami. He just felt too bad about the sinful things he did in private, while his dumb brain couldn't get her picture out of his head. It helped that she was gone most of the day at school or work. But when she was home, he avoided her like the plague. Eventually, Nami grew tired of it and decided to confront him.

"Luffy, why have you been avoiding me?" she asked, sitting beside him on her bed.

"I'm not," he replied, glancing away, his face betraying him with a clear "bad liar" expression.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" Nami said, folding her arms. She sighed. "If this is about the whole shower incident—"

"No, it's not about the shower," Luffy interrupted quickly. "I just feel... guilty."

"Guilty for breaking down the door and being a peeping tom? Good, you should," she teased, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"No, not about that," Luffy said, his face flushing slightly.

"Okay, then what are you guilty about?" she asked, leaning in, genuinely curious.

"I dunno," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at her. He wasn't lying. He truly didn't know why he felt guilty. He just did.

Nami sighed, clearly frustrated but trying to stay patient. "Okay, clearly you don't even know what you're feeling. How about this—let's just forget that whole thing ever happened. I know you're not a pervert, and I get that you were just trying to use the bathroom. We can move on, alright?"

Nami stuck out her hand with a warm smile. "Okay?"

Luffy hesitated, his gaze flicking between her outstretched hand and her face. He could see she was being genuine, and it made him feel a little better. After a moment, he smiled sheepishly and took her hand.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little lighter now.

After that, things went back to normal. Luffy was able to erase her naked image from his mind. Nami asked him to do it, trusted him to do it, so he did. A few months later, Zoro and Luffy started working, and Nami finally convinced Luffy to go to college. The house began to fill up, slowly at first. Usopp moved in, then Chopper and Sanji, and before long, Robin, Franky, Brook, and Jinbe followed. As more people came into the house, Franky remodeled it, expanding the space until it was practically impossible for any accidental shower incidents to happen. Luffy was grateful, and he was sure Nami was too.

But deep down, something still felt different about Nami. Whenever they'd go to the club and he'd catch a glimpse of her, drunk and making out with some guy, he'd feel this strange, unsettling sensation. It was a feeling he didn't like. It only worsened when she went through her first Tinder phase, constantly leaving the house and returning late at night. Nami never actually went on dates with the intent of forming a relationship—usually, it was for free food, or sometimes to rob the unsuspecting guys. She justified it by saying most of them were terrible people, but Luffy couldn't understand: if they were bad people, why did she kiss them?

Makino, Shanks, Gramps, Ace, and Sabo had all told him that you should only kiss people you liked.

Luffy felt fiercely protective of Nami. He felt protective of all his friends, but Nami was a little different. She was one of his closest friends, the one who had first moved into their house and helped turn it into a real home. Giving that old sorry excuse for a house a makeover that only could've been done with her feminine touch. He wanted nothing but the best for her. He would forever be grateful to Vivi for convincing Nami to delete that ridiculous dating app. No more terrible men in her life. All she truly needed was them. She needed him.

Nothing terrified him more than the moment he saw her on their way to the weather station. Her body dangling from that rope, clearly injured. The sight of her blood staining her clothes, the rock, the rope—it was everywhere. There was so much of it. He didn't care about his own safety. Hell, he could die, and it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was making sure Nami was okay. His instincts kicked in, and he shifted into survival mode, carrying her up the rest of the mountain without thinking. He didn't even notice the pain in his hands until later, when he was cleaning her wounds—and it was then that she realized it, too.

Then there was the cold. Waking up to her shivering, her teeth chattering. Not only was she injured, but she was freezing. Of course, it made sense for him to offer her his body heat, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted her close. He needed to feel her warmth, to remind himself that she was still alive, and that everything would be okay.

He didn't mind when it was just the two of them, Nami and him, in the house during those weeks while she recovered. They had a lot of fun together—well, except for the studying she forced him to do. But beyond that, it was mostly enjoyable. Luffy had a blast. But then, she asked him to take those ridiculous pictures for her Tinder. He didn't know what had driven her to download that damn app again, but what could he do? She seemed serious about it this time, actually wanting to pursue a real relationship with some random guy.

Then came that dreaded Twilight marathon with tequila. Luffy wasn't much of a drinker, but he'd have a drink when his friends were. He liked social drinking, though he never understood how Zoro could just drink himself into unconsciousness alone. Well, Zoro did love booze, so there was that. But Luffy's mind felt off during that drinking game. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Nami seemed to be glowing the entire night. Actually glowing. Sparkling, even. It was hard to focus on the movies with her radiating like that. But Nami had wanted him to watch, so he tried his best.

When the room started to spin, Luffy knew he'd hit his limit. And of course, Nami had to lean in, teasing him in that way she did. His body betrayed him then. Had she always smelled that good? And why were her lips so perfect? Luffy tried to keep his lips in check with chapstick, but they were always dry. So how was Nami's skin so smooth, her lips so soft? That's when he realized he was thinking in a way he shouldn't, and he suddenly needed water. A lot of it.

And then, why did she keep teasing him the drunker she got? Calling him a kid for not wanting to watch a sex scene with her—was that so wrong? And then all that nonsense about never kissing anyone before. Then, he'd blurted out that he wanted her to see him as a man. He still didn't know why he said that. Why should it matter what Nami thought of him? At the end of the day, no matter how she saw him, they'd still be friends.

But then, after Zoro walked in on them, Nami started acting differently. Luffy now realized, thanks to Franky, that she wasn't trying to wipe crumbs off his face—she'd wanted to kiss him. Did she really want that? Why? She only kissed bad guys. Did she think he was one now? What had he done wrong? And now she'd matched with one of his other good friends—and a teammate on Tinder. That uneasy feeling came back, the one he didn't like.

Luffy groaned, grabbing his hair in frustration, rolling around in the grass.

This was too confusing. And his head hurt. But there was one thing he was sure of: he was really hungry, and would kill for some lunch right about now.

---

Everyone was winding down for bed, the house slowly quieting as the lights went off one by one. Chopper was brushing his teeth, looking a little down as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "I miss Robin," he said softly, his tiny voice tinged with sadness.

Nami, sitting on the couch with her feet tucked beneath her, pouted. "Yeah, me too. It's so quiet without her here."

Zoro, rose from the couch, stretching his limbs and letting out a heavy sigh. "She's been gone less than a day. You two need to get over it."

Jinbe, who had been quietly making his way to the kitchen, raised an eyebrow at Nami. "Nami, isn't your sister arriving tomorrow?"

Nami blinked, a small smile breaking through her pout. "Yeah, she's coming for my birthday. She'll be staying for the week and then going back home."

Usopp's eyes brightened, clearly excited. "Yeah! Your twenty-third birthday is on the third, right?"

Nami groaned dramatically, slumping back into the couch. "Don't remind me. I'm getting so old," she grumbled, rubbing her temples.

Brook, always the one to add his dramatic flair, grinned from where he was sitting on the floor. "How do you think I feel? My twenty-third birthday was over twenty-three years ago!" He gave an exaggerated sigh and placed his hand over his chest. "Ah, the pain of eternal youth."

Sanji's eyes lit up, his hand dramatically placed over his chest. "Your birthday should be a national holiday, Nami-swan! I already have your cake all planned out—no one else will make something worthy of your beauty!" He turned to the group with a smirk. "What are you and your gorgeous sister planning on doing for your special day? I'm sure she'll appreciate the honor of sharing the spotlight with the most amazing woman in the world!"

Nami rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Well, I talked to work and got the day off, so the world is my oyster." She leaned back against the couch, her arms stretched out, looking relaxed. "I'm probably going to go to the beach, maybe do some tanning and surfing. And you all are more than welcome to tag along if you're free. I think it'll be fun."

Sanji's grin stretched wider. "A day at the beach? With you, Nami-swan? How could I not be there? I'll be your personal lifeguard, making sure nothing so much as a wave touches you without my permission."

Zoro, lounging nearby and half-distracted by his phone, glanced over with a smirk. "Just try not to drown yourself, love cook. I'd hate to be the one stuck dragging your sorry ass out of the ocean."

Sanji shot him a glare. "Save it, mosshead. I can keep myself afloat just fine, unlike you and your rock-for-brains swimming style." He turned back to Nami, tone softening again. "But seriously, Nami, I'll make sure your day is perfect."

Zoro rolled his eyes, then nudged Luffy in the side. "Hey. Did you hear that? Beach and surfing. Two of your favorite things."

Luffy blinked, looking up like he'd just returned from another planet. "Huh? What'd you say?"

Sanji groaned. "Were you even listening, you dolt? Nami's birthday is in two days!"

Usopp let out an exaggerated sigh. "Don't tell me you forgot again."

Luffy pouted, crossing his arms. "Of course not! I'm not Sabo. I remember all my friends' birthdays!"

Jinbe raised a brow and looked over at him. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

Luffy made eye contact with Nami. She was watching him—expectant, waiting. Something about the way she looked at him made his chest feel tight. He rubbed the back of his head and looked away. "I'll see. I might have... work. Or something."

Zoro gave him a sharp look. "Work or something? Seriously?"

Usopp leaned forward, incredulous. "Yeah, Luffy, you've never missed one of our birthday celebrations. Not once in the two years we've lived together. You always just skip class and ditch your job just to hang out. What gives?"

Nami sighed and gave him a little pout, but her voice was clipped. "It's fine."

Sanji frowned. "No, it's not. It's your birthday, Nami."

"I'm serious," she said, waving it off. "If he wants to work and make money, I'm fine with that. Besides, I'll have plenty of people around. Nojiko's coming, obviously. Shirahoshi, Kaya, Pudding, Lola, Camie—and Carina's in town too. It's not a big deal."

She stood up then, walking past Luffy. Her gaze narrowed as she looked at him. "Besides, you're the one who decided to start acting weird around me out of nowhere. So if this is what you want to do, then fine."

Then she turned on her heel. "Good night, everyone," she added quickly before disappearing into her room and slamming the door behind her.

The group was left in stunned silence.

"You think she's really mad?" Chopper asked in a small voice.

Jinbe sighed deeply. "I'd take a pretty confident guess and say yes."

Sanji folded his arms and shot Luffy a glare. "You know, Nami's right. You have been acting strange toward her. Ever since you and Franky ditched helping me and Pudding move furniture into the restaurant to go stalk Usopp on his date, you've been weird."

Usopp whipped his head around. "Wait—you what?! You two followed Kaya and me on our date? That's a total breach of privacy!"

Franky let out a whistle and crossed his arms. "Yeah, and we both saw you fumble the bag when she leaned in for a kiss. It was a hard watch, bro. Like, seriously painful. It was so bad that Luffy thought she was just trying to wipe some crumbs off your face."

Sanji spun around to Usopp, scandalized. "Wait—Kaya wanted you to kiss her and you didn't?! Why?!"

Usopp threw up his hands defensively. "I was nervous, okay? I panicked!"

Franky shook his head dramatically. "Man, you can't be panicking at that point. That's prime kissin' time!"

"I know that now!" Usopp snapped, face red. "It's not like I've had a ton of experience! And then you two were watching?! What the hell?!"

Sanji groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "This is tragic. This is beyond tragic. Kaya is so out of your league, and she was ready to kiss you, and you just—blew it?!"

As the conversation kept spiraling into chaos, Zoro's eyes drifted to Luffy. He was sitting quietly, unusually still. His head was down, and he let out a long, tired sigh as he pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a swipe and aimlessly scrolling.

Zoro's brow furrowed. Something clicked.

"Oh…" Zoro muttered under his breath.

---

Nami lay in bed, the room dark except for the faint glow of her phone screen. Her glasses sat crooked on her nose as she lazily texted back and forth with Kidd on Tinder. They were still in the early stages—light jokes, basic questions, testing the waters.

Kidd: So what do you do for work? You've mentioned like... four different jobs.

Nami: That's because I have four jobs 😩 Girlboss era. What about you?

Kidd: Well, I'm doing an internship right now. I study mechanical engineering. But I'm a pirate in spirit.

Nami: lol of course you are.

Just as she started typing a reply, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Robin. Nami immediately perked up and answered without hesitation.

"Hey!" she said, her voice lifting with a hint of relief.

"Hey," Robin replied, calm as ever. "You told me to call when I landed, no matter what time it was. So here I am. We're all at the airport now. Spending the day in the city and night in a hostel before heading to the dig site tomorrow."

"That's great!" Nami said, settling deeper into the covers. "I'm glad you're safe."

There was a pause—then her voice cracked. "You haven't even been gone a day and… I already miss you."

"Aww, Nami," Robin said gently. "I miss you too."

Nami sniffled, and Robin immediately picked up on it.

"Hey… is everything okay back there?"

"Yeah," Nami replied quickly, though her voice betrayed her. "I swear, it's fine."

Robin didn't budge. "Nami, I've lived with you for two years. I know when you're lying. What's going on?"

"Seriously, it's nothing," Nami said again, more insistent this time.

"Nami—" Robin started, but was interrupted by a voice in the background.

"Robin, we flagged down a taxi," came Dr. Clover's familiar voice. "You ready?"

Robin covered the phone slightly. "Give me a minute, please. I'm on an important call. Just text me the address—I'll make my way there later."

"You sure?" Clover asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Robin said firmly. "I'll see you all at the hostel."

Nami's voice came back quickly, anxious. "No, Robin. Please—just go get some rest. I'm fine."

"It's okay, Nami," Robin replied softly. "They've already gone. And don't worry—I'm a big strong girl. I can take care of myself."

Then, even softer, "Now, tell me. What's really wrong?"

---

It was two in the morning, and the house was still. The occasional creak of old wood settled into silence again as Zoro lay flat on his back, arms folded beneath his head, eyes locked on the ceiling. Their shared room was dark, lit only by the soft blue glow from Luffy's phone screen on the other side.

Space had become a luxury ever since they all moved in together. Only a few had the privilege of their own rooms—Nami, Robin, Brook, and Jinbe. Everyone else had to double up. Sanji was stuck with Franky. Usopp and Chopper shared a space full of cluttered gadgets and scattered plushies. Zoro ended up with Luffy, which worked fine most of the time... until nights like this.

After a long minute, Zoro exhaled through his nose and broke the silence.

"Luffy."

From across the room, the glow paused. "Yeah?"

Zoro turned his head just slightly. "Why are you still awake? It's two in the damn morning."

A beat. Then Luffy's voice, quiet but honest. "I can't sleep."

Zoro sighed. He threw back the thin blanket and stood, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He padded across the room, stopping next to Luffy's bed.

"Come on," Zoro said, nudging Luffy's leg with his foot. "Get up. Let's go find Usopp."

Luffy looked up at him, blinking. "Why?"

Zoro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because he's probably still awake. You're impossible when you're mopey. Maybe talking to him will shut your brain up for a bit. And," he added, glancing toward the door, "he still has that green card for his medical marajuana. You always knock out after we smoke."

He crossed his arms. "So let's go."

---

The three of them sat huddled on the back patio, wrapped in hoodies and old blankets, the air cool and damp from the early morning dew. The house was quiet, its lights off except for the faint glow spilling from the kitchen window. The joint made its slow, lazy rotation between them, smoke curling gently into the night air. Usopp, who had been given a medical marijuana prescription to help with his anxiety, had jumped at the chance when Luffy and Zoro quietly suggested the idea. After getting chewed out by Franky and Sanji about bombing his date with Kaya, he had barely been able to sleep.

Usopp exhaled a cloud of smoke and slouched deeper into his chair, legs pulled up under his blanket. "Girls are so confusing," he muttered, watching the smoke drift lazily into the air. "I envy you, Luffy. You just live this life where you're… not interested in anyone."

Luffy sighed, holding the joint between his fingers before passing it to Zoro. "Nami tried to kiss me a few weeks ago."

Usopp's eyes went wide. "What? Are you serious?"

Luffy groaned, slouching forward and resting his arms on his knees. "We were drunk. It was that night Zoro got lost again, and you were at the toy store working on your comics." He rubbed his forehead. "She told me she was just trying to wipe crumbs off my face. And I believed her, until—"

"—until Franky said something," Usopp and Zoro cut in at the same time, deadpan.

Zoro took a hit before passing the joint along. "I figured that was the case," he muttered, exhaling slowly.

"Oh god, we accidentally manifested this on the camping trip, huh? All that talk about how Nami would never be into you... well, damn," Usopp said, raising an eyebrow with a look of wide-eyed curiosity. "So, did she... you know, kiss you?"

Luffy shook his head quickly, a decisive gesture. "No." He pointed at Zoro with his thumb. "He walked in before anything happened."

Usopp took a hit from the joint and passed it to Luffy. "Is that why you came up with that dumb excuse about having to work on her birthday? Are you embarrassed that she tried to kiss you? Why? Did you want to kiss her or something?"

"No?" Luffy replied blowing out smoke, his voice uncertain.

"Why are you saying that like it's a question and not an answer?" Zoro chimed in, his tone dry.

"Because I don't know! I mean, yeah, I think I thought about it for like, a millisecond earlier that night. But it was one of those weird, intrusive thoughts, you know? Like when you see a glass and, for no reason, just want to smash it?" Luffy explained, his brows furrowed, passing the joint to Zoro.

"Or when you randomly want to cut off one of your own limbs with a sword," Zoro added, his voice casual as he took another hit.

"Yeah, or—wait, did you just say that you think about mutilating yourself with a sword at work?" Usopp blinked, staring at Zoro in disbelief.

"I told you, it's an intrusive thought. Sometimes I just wonder what it would feel like," Zoro shrugged, blowing out the smoke.

"That's... not normal," Usopp muttered, shaking his head. "Anyways, back to the topic at hand. Are you sure you didn't want her to kiss you, Luffy?"

"I told you all... I don't know," Luffy groaned, slumping further into his chair, hoodie bunched around his shoulders. "This is so confusing. And now I'm just really hungry. All of this thinking has been burning too many calories."

Zoro snorted. "That's not how calories work."

"It is in Luffy's world," Usopp muttered, stretching his legs out with a sigh. "But same, honestly. This whole conversation's got my brain fried."

Luffy perked up, already halfway out of his chair. "Let's go raid the kitchen."

Usopp stopped him, gently putting out the joint. "Wait, Luffy—before we go, I just wanna say something. Don't overthink it, okay? I psyched myself out doing that when Kaya wanted to kiss me. Totally froze. And now she hasn't talked to me in like, a week. I just think… you should tread carefully."

Luffy blinked at him, blanket slouched over one shoulder.

Usopp continued, tone softer now. "Like, yeah—don't overthink it, but don't ignore it either. Nami's our friend, and we all live together. If you ever figure out that you did want her to kiss you… just remember that. Too many people date their roommate and it blows up, ruins the friendship, someone ends up moving out, and everything's awkward forever."

Zoro cut in, dryly. "Don't say all that. You're just gonna confuse him even more."

Usopp frowned. "I'm just trying to help!"

"You're giving him a relationship TED Talk at 3:00 a.m.," Zoro said. "Let him eat and go to sleep."

Luffy, oblivious to the back and forth, yawned and stood up fully. "I hope we still have that leftover pasta…"

---

The kitchen was filled with the quiet clinking of mugs and the low hum of the fridge. Morning light poured in through the windows, soft and golden, but it did little to brighten the mood.

Usopp sat hunched at the table, a blanket still draped over his shoulders, dark circles under his eyes like bruises. Luffy was next to him, hair sticking up in every direction, chin propped in one hand as he poked at a slice of toast. Across from them, Nami walked in clutching a mug of tea, her eyes red and puffy, though she avoided meeting anyone's gaze.

Chopper looked between the three of them as he sat down with his cereal. "You three look terrible."

"I had trouble falling asleep," Usopp mumbled.

"Same," Luffy echoed, yawning wide enough to make his jaw pop.

Nami didn't speak right away, just sank into the chair across from Chopper with a heavy sigh. Then, quietly. "Same."

Chopper frowned, pushing his cereal bowl aside. "If this keeps up, you all need to come into the clinic. I can prescribe something mild to help you sleep. Seriously."

Luffy blinked slowly at him. "Is it candy-flavored?"

"No," Chopper said flatly. "It's medicine."

"Bummer," Luffy said, going back to staring at his toast.

Usopp rubbed his eyes and groaned. "It's not insomnia, it's just... life."

"Yeah," Nami muttered, fingers tightening around her mug. "Life."

Chopper looked at all of them again, more worried now than before. "Well, if it gets worse, promise me you'll come in?"

They all nodded halfheartedly.

The groggy silence was shattered by the swing of the kitchen door and the unmistakable voice of Sanji.

"Rise and shine, everyone!" he sang, striding in with far too much energy for this hour. Jinbe followed behind him with a calm smile, while Brook and Franky trailed in animated conversation about music and engine parts.

"It's a very special day!" Sanji announced, spinning on his heel like he was on a stage. "Darling Nojiko will grace us all with her radiant presence, and—most importantly—it's Nami's birthday eve!"

A chorus of groans met his words.

"Come on!" he said, blinking at the group in confusion. "This is a good day! Why are you all moping around like it's tax season?"

Luffy let his forehead hit the table with a dull thunk.

Usopp mumbled something into his blanket that might have been "too early for this energy."

Chopper just sighed and went back to his cereal. "Emotional burnout," he muttered. "It's contagious in this house."

Nami's phone buzzed on the table, its screen lighting up. She glanced at it with tired eyes, then slowly answered, her voice hoarse.

"Hello?"

"Hey!" Nojiko's cheerful voice rang through the speaker. "I just pulled up. Decided to surprise you and drove through the night to get here early. Surprise! Now come let me in—I brought tangerines."

Nami blinked. "You what?"

Sanji's eyes went wide, lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. "She's here already?! Like... here here?"

"Yes," Nami mumbled, dragging herself to her feet with a groan. "She has tangerines."

"MY DARLING NOJIKO HAS ARRIVED EARLY?!" Sanji spun dramatically toward the window like he was about to swan-dive through it. "FRANKY! BROOK! EMERGENCY CLEAN-UP MODE—ENGAGE!"

Brook snapped a salute with a flourish. "Yohoho! I'll fluff the pillows!"

Franky threw up a thumbs-up. "I'll shine the fridge!"

Jinbe chuckled warmly, stepping aside as Nami shuffled past. "I'll put the kettle on."

Nami opened the front door slowly, still groggy, and was immediately pulled into a tight hug.

"Happy almost-birthday," Nojiko murmured into her shoulder, squeezing her tight.

Nami blinked, then lazily wrapped her arms around her sister in return. "You're really here," she mumbled.

"Of course I am."

Nami pulled back with a yawn, brushing hair from her face. "Why'd you come so early? You know I still have to work today, right?"

Nojiko grinned. "Because I wanted to, duh."

Nami gave her a look. "Well… I guess you can sleep here until I get back."

"No chance," Nojiko said, stepping inside with a confident strut. "I plan on following you around all day. Didn't you hear? It's 'Bring Your Orchard-Caretaking Sister to Work Day.' Besides, I had six Red Bulls on the drive here. I don't think I'll sleep again for the next decade."

Just then, a blur of fur darted past her ankles. A tan Shiba Inu bolted into the house, tail wagging furiously.

"Callie—!" Nami dropped to her knees as the dog leapt up on her, licking her face excitedly. "Hey, Callie. I missed you too."

"Down, Callie!" Nojiko called out, trying not to laugh. "Come on, you know better."

Callie barked once, completely ignoring the command and continuing her enthusiastic assault of love.

Nojiko followed her in, and the room lit up.

"NOJIKO-SWAAAAN!" Sanji practically floated toward her, hands clasped dramatically. "What a vision of grace so early in the day!"

Brook bowed. "Good morning, m'lady! Yohoho! What a surprise."

Franky gave her a wave, already mid-fridge polish. "Super glad you're here, sis!"

Jinbe gave a polite nod from the kitchen. "Welcome back, Nojiko. Tea will be ready shortly."

Nojiko lifted the netted bag of tangerines high above her head, flashing a mischievous grin. "Who's ready for breakfast?"

Nami's eyes lit up, hands already reaching forward. "You know I am—"

But before she could grab them, Luffy shot up from his seat like a launched spring, snatching the bag out of Nojiko's hands with a gleeful yell. "Bellemère's tangerines! Man, I haven't had these in forever!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Nami barked, storming over and smacking him square on the head. "They're not for you! Hands off!"

"OW," Luffy whined, clutching the back of his head with a pout. "You didn't have to hit me…"

They glared at each other—Nami, with her hands on her hips, and Luffy, rubbing his head and hugging the bag protectively. For a beat, the air felt weirdly thick, the tension of last night briefly flashing between them in a silent, loaded stare.

Nojiko, ever the peacekeeper, broke the silence with a chuckle. "It's okay, Nami. He can have them. I've got about twenty more bags in the back of my truck."

Luffy perked up immediately. "Really?!"

"Speaking of," Nojiko continued, casting a glance around the room, "which one of you fine gentlemen wants to help me unload my luggage?"

Sanji practically vaulted over the table. "Allow me, Nojiko-swan! I will carry your burdens as if they were clouds beneath your radiant feet!"

Franky cracked his knuckles. "Let's super tag team it, bro."

Nojiko laughed, grabbing her keys from her coat pocket and tossing them to Sanji. "Be careful with Callie's dog food bag. It's heavier than it looks."

Sanji caught the keys mid-air and bowed. "Your wish is my command!"

As the group filed out, Callie barked and followed close behind, tail wagging.

Luffy peeled another tangerine and pulled one out of the bag, holding it out to Nami with a small, tentative smile. "Here."

Nami stopped mid-step, her gaze flicking from the fruit in his hand up to his face. Her expression hardened.

"No," she said flatly. "Nojiko said you can have them, so they're yours. Besides, it's contaminated with your grubby little hands. I don't want it."

Luffy blinked, his hand still awkwardly outstretched.

She turned on her heel. "I'm getting ready for work now. Usopp—take Nojiko and Callie to Robin's room when she comes back in. That's where she'll be staying."

"Sure…" Usopp mumbled from behind his coffee mug, not really looking at anyone.

With a swift step down the hall, Nami disappeared into her room and slammed the door behind her, the sharp thud echoing through the quiet kitchen.

Luffy slowly lowered the tangerine, looking down at it like it had personally offended him.

---

The morning sun filtered through the car windows as Nami drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the open window frame. She was dressed for the day: worn jeans tucked into her scuffed boots, an old band tee hanging loose on her frame, and her hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

In the passenger seat, Nojiko was the picture of vacation rebellion—crop top, tiny jean shorts, and cowgirl boots kicking up on the dashboard, sunglasses perched on her head.

"Sorry Callie couldn't come with," Nami said, glancing over as they hit a bump in the road. "Hancock has a strict no-animals policy on her property. Except for snakes, for some reason. She has tons of them. It's a little weird."

Nojiko chuckled. "Ah, don't sweat it. Franky says Callie'll be a great shop hand at his garage today. I'm not worried. Besides—it's not every day you find yourself heading to the Boa Hancock's estate. How'd you even land this job, anyway? I thought you were still just an intern?"

Nami rolled her eyes with a wry smile. "Still am. Hancock hired Weatheria Inc. to design a climate control system to keep her estate in a permanent tropical summer. But she also, you know, despises men—and I'm the only girl in the office. So... here I am."

"That's so cool," Nojiko said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Have you actually talked to her?"

"A little," Nami admitted. "When she first hired me, she gave me this super high-end scar gel. Like, ridiculously expensive stuff—to help fade the scars on my arm from the stitches."

"Shut up! That's so cool!"

Nami laughed. "Yeah, she's intimidating as hell, but she's also... like, crazy sexy. It's hard to focus some days. She mostly lounges around the pool with her sisters. Not even pretending to work. It's distracting."

"I bet," Nojiko grinned. "So—this it?"

Nami's car rounded the bend and slowed in front of an ornate, gilded gate, flanked by towering hedges and marble snake statues. The gate itself sparkled like actual gold under the morning sun.

"Yup," Nami said simply. She leaned out her window and held up her work ID to the camera beside the gate. After a brief pause, the iron bars creaked open with mechanical precision.

They drove through, the tires crunching softly against the pristine gravel driveway. Palm trees lined either side of the winding path, leading up to the massive white mansion glittering at the top of the hill.

"Well," Nojiko whistled low, sitting forward. "This is already better than any of my Tuesdays."

Nami smirked. "Just wait till you see the pool."

---

The towering double doors of the mansion opened with a faint hiss of hydraulics, revealing the opulence within—high vaulted ceilings, walls trimmed in gold leaf, and a marble floor so polished it reflected their steps like a mirror. The scent of jasmine and citrus floated faintly in the air.

Nami stepped in with a practiced ease, hitching her work bag up onto her shoulder. Nojiko trailed behind her, wide-eyed and clearly impressed, though trying to play it cool.

In the grand lounge just past the entryway, Sandersonia and Marigold lounged like queens on an enormous velvet sectional, each draped in rich silk robes. A crystal bottle of champagne glimmered on the glass table between them, condensation dripping down its sides as they sipped from impossibly thin flutes.

"Good morning, Nami!" Marigold called, her tone warm and easy.

"Morning!" Nami replied, giving a polite nod as she adjusted the weight of her bag.

Sandersonia tilted her head, eyes landing on Nojiko. "And who's this with you?"

"Oh, this is my sister, Nojiko," Nami said, giving her a gentle nudge forward. "She's not with Weatheria or anything, she just drove up from my hometown back in the East Blue to spend some time with me."

Nojiko flashed a bright smile and a wave. "Yup! It's Nami's birthday tomorrow, and I wanted to be here to celebrate with her."

Marigold smiled kindly. "That's very sweet of you. Happy early birthday, Nami."

"Thank you!" Nami said, grinning just a little sheepishly.

Suddenly, the soft clack of heels echoed through the marble hallway above them.

All heads turned as Boa Hancock descended the sweeping staircase with the poise of a goddess. She wore a sheer, flowing robe over elegant lingerie that shimmered like moonlight. Her long hair cascaded down her back, and a massive albino python curled lazily around her shoulders like a stole, flicking its tongue in the air.

Her eyes locked onto Nami with practiced drama.

"Is that… Nami?" she said, her voice like honey laced with a dare.

Nojiko's brows lifted slightly as she leaned in and whispered, "You weren't kidding about the snakes."

Nami cleared her throat and stood a little straighter. "Good morning, Miss Hancock."

Hancock descended the last of the marble stairs with fluid grace, the hem of her robe gliding behind her like mist. The python shifted slightly on her shoulders as she tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Nami.

"Please," she said smoothly, a soft smile on her face, "I already told you… just call me Hancock."

Nami nodded, cheeks tinged pink. "Right. Sorry. Hancock."

Hancock's eyes slid to Nojiko, scanning her with open curiosity. "And who's this?"

Before Nami could respond, Sandersonia chimed in from the couch, "It's her sister. She wanted to spend the day with her."

Hancock hummed, stepping closer with quiet, commanding steps. She looked Nojiko up and down with a slow, almost theatrical appraisal. Nojiko stood frozen in place, trying to smile, but her face had gone beet red. She opened her mouth to speak, but only managed a flustered, "Hi—I'm, uh—I just—"

"You two don't look like sisters," Hancock said coolly, still eyeing her. "You hardly share any resemblance at all."

There was a beat of silence.

Nami's brow quirked. Her eyes flicked over to Sandersonia and Marigold, then slowly back to Hancock. Her lips pressed together, and she had to physically stop herself from saying the words already on the tip of her tongue: I could say the same thing.

But Nojiko, still slightly flushed, stepped in with a soft chuckle. "Oh, we're not blood sisters. We're both adopted."

"Mm," Hancock replied, as if considering whether or not she approved of that answer. The python's head swayed lazily beside her cheek, flicking its tongue toward Nojiko. "Adoption. How quaint."

Nojiko gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her neck. "Yeah… I guess it is."

"Well," Hancock said finally, turning back toward the lounge with a flourish of her robe, "if she gets in the way of your work, I'll have Sandersonia feed her to Salome."

The python hissed, almost like it agreed.

Nojiko blinked.

"She's kidding," Marigold said with a smile, pouring herself more champagne.

"…Right," Nojiko muttered.

---

Surprisingly, Nojiko, Sandersonia, and Marigold hit it off almost immediately. They bonded over their love for their sisters, laughing and swapping stories like old friends. When Nojiko offered them some of Bellemere's homegrown tangerines, the deal was sealed—an instant friendship bloomed. Bellemere's tangerines just had that effect on people.

They liked Nojiko so much, in fact, that they lent her a swimsuit and invited her to lounge with them by the pool. So there she was, stretched out on a recliner in oversized sunglasses and a silky robe, sipping champagne and basking in the morning sun.

Right beside her, however—covered in grease and crouched beneath a large control panel—was Nami, hard at work installing components for the weather control system. She wiped her hands with a rag and shot Nojiko a look.

"You know, I could use an extra hand," Nami said, breathless and slightly annoyed.

Nojiko didn't even look over. "You heard the lady. If I get in your way, I become snake food."

She tilted her sunglasses down, sitting up in her chair and scanning the horizon. "Still, this is unreal. Look at this view. I think this might be the best damn view of the beach I've ever seen. And her neighbors—"

She started pointing off into the distance at other palatial mansions. "That one over there? That's Donquixote Doflamingo's place—the famous politician. And that one? Gecko Moria, the horror movie director. And that one? Crocodile's mansion. The casino tycoon."

Sandersonia giggled. "You sure know a lot about where the rich and famous live."

Nojiko nodded. "Our mom is big on visualizing your future. Nami used to talk all the time about how she was gonna be rich one day. So we'd spend hours on the computer looking up photos of mansions, and Mom would tell her to picture herself living in one."

"Nojiko!" Nami snapped, her face flushing. "Stop! That's embarrassing."

Marigold laughed. "I don't think it's embarrassing at all. I think it's sweet. We all did the same thing growing up. We weren't born into money either—not like Doflamingo or some of the other neighbors. Our sister worked her ass off. Pageants, modeling, even the occasional music video or movie cameo. And now, she's probably the most famous woman in the world."

She lifted her glass, smiling fondly. "And she still takes care of all of us. Just goes to show—if you work hard, you really do get to play hard."

Sandersonia leaned forward, curiosity twinkling in her eyes. "Say, Nami… have you ever thought about modeling?"

Nami blinked, caught mid-task. "Modeling? Me?" She snorted and tightened a screw. "Please. Half my wardrobe is thrifted, even the stuff with designer labels. Not exactly runway material."

From behind her drink, Nojiko smirked. "You say that like people don't check you out every time you walk into a room."

Nami shot her a look over her shoulder, brow raised. "That's different. That's just people being annoying."

Marigold chuckled, swirling her champagne. "It's more than that, sweetheart. You've got a presence. Hancock noticed it the very first day you came here."

Nami paused, the tool in her hand hovering. "She did?"

Sandersonia nodded. "Oh yeah. After you left, she actually said she was impressed by how confident you were when you introduced yourself. And believe me, Hancock doesn't compliment people lightly."

Marigold leaned in, her voice softer. "And that scar gel she gave you? That's not just some off-the-shelf treatment. It's from her personal dermatology team. She only shares it with people she respects. I think she sees something in you—someone strong, driven, independent."

Nami flushed, her fingers curling tighter around the wrench. "I mean… I appreciated it. It really helped."

Nojiko chuckled. "You're allowed to take a compliment, you know."

Sandersonia tilted her head curiously. "So, Nami, where do you live now?"

"Oh, just a regular old house in the city's residential area," Nami said, adjusting a dial on the panel. "It's pretty close to the college. I live with my roommates."

Marigold raised a brow. "Roommates? Plural? How many are we talking?"

Nami shrugged casually. "Including me? Ten."

"Ten?!" Sandersonia nearly spilled her drink. "How do you even fit that many people in one house?!"

Nami chuckled. "Six of them share a room. The other four of us each get our own."

Marigold laughed. "You must really love your roommates to live like that. Tell us, what are they like?"

Nami froze.

Crap. If they find out I live with Luffy, Hancock will actually murder me.

She forced a casual smile. "Oh, they're nothing special. Just regular old people."

Nojiko gave her a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed. "What are you talking about? Your housemates are anything but regular."

Nami shot her a warning look, but Nojiko just sighed dramatically and kept going.

"Well, for starters, there's Sanji. He's a chef—actually a really good one. Works as sous chef at the Baratie. Flirts with every girl who walks past. Then there's Zoro, the swordsman who trains at Mihawk's dojo. Super talented, kind of grumpy. And of course, there's the guy who asked Nami to live there in the first place. His name's Lu—"

Nami lunged and slapped a hand over Nojiko's mouth with a loud, nervous laugh. "Wow! Would you look at the time? Almost lunch! You lovely ladies wouldn't mind if I took my sister out to grab a bite, would you?"

Sandersonia blinked. "Uh… sure?"

"Perfect! We'll be back in an hour!" Nami said in a rush, already dragging Nojiko away by the arm.

Marigold called after them, "Oh, Nojiko! Bring back some more of your mother's tangerines! We have to let Hancock try them!"

Sandersonia nodded eagerly. "Yes! They were divine!"

Nami spun around while still walking backwards. "Yup! Totally! You got it!"

From behind her sunglasses, Nojiko groaned. "Nami, wait—at least let me change back into my clothes first!"

---

Nami and Nojiko sat in Nami's car, parked outside a Tropical Smoothie in the parking lot. Nami was halfway through a sandwich, while Nojiko took a long sip of her smoothie, her eyes still narrowed with curiosity.

"So, wait," Nojiko began, her voice tinged with amusement, "let's go over this again. Why do you not want Hancock to know you're friends with Luffy?"

Nami groaned and leaned her head against the steering wheel. "I've told you a million times already. If Hancock finds out I live with him... she might just set her snakes on me."

Nojiko raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of her smoothie. "Really? You think Hancock would be that extreme just because you're friends with Luffy?"

Nami threw her hands up in exasperation. "Yes, dude! She's practically in love with him! And she'll definitely think I'm into him."

Nojiko smirked. "Uh-huh. And why would she think that? You live with seven other guys. There's just as much chance of you being into one of them as there is of you going for Luffy."

"First of all, gross," Nami shot back. "Franky, Jinbe, and Brook—especially Brook—are way older than me. And Chopper is still a kid, okay? I don't care if he's only, like, four years younger than me." She shuddered at the thought. "And second, Hancock's gonna think I'm into Luffy because she thinks every girl around him is into him. It's like her whole thing."

Nojiko leaned back in her seat, still holding her smoothie, but with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Still, I don't see the big deal. It seems like Hancock's fond of you. I'm sure she'd listen if you just said, 'Look, I only see him as a friend. That's it. He's all yours.'"

She smirked, taking another sip. "Unless... you can't find it in yourself to say that to her."

Nami went silent, her gaze fixed on her sandwich as she chewed slowly, avoiding eye contact.

Nojiko's smirk turned into a shocked grin as realization hit her. "Shut up! You have a crush on Luffy! I knew it, I freaking knew it. Man, I knew this was gonna happen the moment you first moved in with him three years ago. I mean, sure, he's not your usual type, but you two have this chemistry that just... clicks."

Nami slammed her hands on the steering wheel, a deep flush spreading across her face. "It's not a real crush, okay?! It's just... it's confusing!"

Nojiko let out a laugh, leaning back in her seat. "Oh yeah, that's definitely what someone who's not into him would say. You're so obvious, Nami!"

"I told you... it's complicated," Nami said, still embarrassed, but her voice now carrying a hint of sadness.

Nami then proceeded to filled Nojiko in on everything that had happened in the past couple months. She talked about the time she and Luffy had snuggled for warmth on the mountain, about how they'd spent nearly four weeks together while her cast healed, and about how Luffy had casually called her pretty while taking her Tinder photos. She confessed to thinking he was flirting with her during a drunken movie night, where she'd even tried to kiss him, but now she wasn't sure if it had been just the alcohol, especially after Chopper told her that Luffy wasn't asexual. And lately, Luffy had started acting distant and avoiding her, to the point that he might not even join the group to celebrate her birthday tomorrow.

Nojiko's eyes softened as she absorbed the weight of what Nami was saying. "Jesus, Nami, this is a lot. Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"

"I told you, I've been confused!" Nami groaned. "One moment I'm sitting there, trying to figure out how these feelings even happened in the first place. The next, I'm thinking, 'Oh, you know what? Maybe he's into me too.' And then I remind myself, 'No, he's Luffy. That's not possible,' and I get on Tinder trying to distract myself. Did I tell you I matched with one of his soccer teammates? And then I asked Luffy what he thought about it, and he just goes—" she dropped into a mocking voice, "'Up to you, I guess.' Like, what the hell does that even mean?"

Nojiko groaned, rubbing her temples. "Why would you match with one of his teammates if you like the guy, Nami? You're sabotaging yourself."

Nami pulled out her phone and showed her the profile. "Here. This is him."

Nojiko swiped through with a judgmental squint. "This guy isn't your type either. He's totally punk. You don't like punk guys—you think they're too angry."

"I only swiped because he had a group photo with Luffy," Nami admitted sheepishly.

Nojiko gave her a look. "Nami, you don't match with your crush's teammates on Tinder. That's how you get a reputation—and not the good kind."

Nami pouted, setting her sandwich aside and hugging her knees to her chest. "I don't know what to do. What did I do wrong? Why is he being all avoidant, now of all times? The worst part is, I don't even know what's wrong. But it must be pretty bad if he wants to skip my birthday... I talked to Robin about it last night and ended up crying myself to sleep."

"Oh, Nami…" Nojiko murmured, pulling her into a comforting hug. "You poor thing. I know this is hard, but these are normal feelings. Luffy's been really sweet to you all these years. You were bound to catch feelings eventually."

"But… he's one of my best friends. What if trying to go beyond that ruins everything? I think it already might have," Nami whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

"Well, Nami," Nojiko said gently, brushing her thumb over Nami's cheek. "What's more important to you—being friends with Luffy, or dating him?"

"Friends," Nami sniffled.

"Then there's your answer," Nojiko said, holding her close.

---

The house was winding down for the night, lights dimmed and the hum of activity softening as everyone shuffled off to their rooms. Pajamas rustled, toothbrushes buzzed, and someone—probably Zoro—yawned loud enough to echo down the hallway. But amid the coziness and bedtime rituals, Nami's room was still buzzing with energy. Makeup was scattered across the dresser, a curling iron hissed with heat, and music thumped softly from a Bluetooth speaker as the sisters got ready for a night out.

Sanji stood outside Nami's door, arms crossed, lower lip jutted out in a theatrical pout. "Please, Nami, let me come with you! Once it hits midnight, it'll officially be your birthday!"

Usopp popped his head around the corner, nodding emphatically. "Yeah! We all want to spend your birthday together!"

The bedroom door opened, and both men paused mid-sentence. Nami stepped out, adjusting the second gold hoop in her ear. Her dress glittered under the hallway light—very short, strapless, and entirely too glamorous for a sleepy house. Her long, sleek ponytail, smoky eyes, and vintage black Prada heels made it clear: this was not just a casual night out.

"I already told you all," she said, giving them a small smile as she reached for her clutch. "I want to spend the night with Nojiko. We'll have all day together tomorrow."

Sanji visibly melted into the wall, both hands clutched to his chest. "Mademoiselle… you are too radiant for this cruel world…"

Usopp gave an exaggerated sigh. "I mean, fair, but still… a little warning next time before you walk out looking like that."

From behind her, Nojiko emerged in a slinky red jumpsuit and leather jacket, smirking as she tossed a teasing look toward the guys. "Don't wait up."

"Okay, our Uber's already here," Nami called, glancing at her phone as she slipped on her coat. "But I'll tell them to wait for you."

As she moved toward the door, she passed Luffy on the couch, where he was lounging in sweats, playing with Callie. The little dog was sprawled out on her back, tail thumping as Luffy scratched her belly with the kind of focus usually reserved for rare bugs or intense video games. He looked up just as Nami walked by—and paused.

"You look nice," he said, voice soft, a little awkward.

Nami blinked. "Oh… um, thanks, I guess."

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting back to Callie. "Well, uh, if you need a ride back or something, shoot me a call. I'll try to wake up."

She hesitated, eyes on him for a second longer than necessary. "Sure," she said quietly, before stepping out the door.

Nojiko came in right behind her, pausing to watch the door swing shut before plopping down on the couch beside Luffy. Callie immediately rolled onto her side to face her, but Luffy kept petting her with the same determined energy, like it was the only thing anchoring him.

"She really likes you," Nojiko said, watching him with a knowing smirk. "She's usually always barking at boys, but she's got a soft spot for the ones in this house. Especially you."

"Good," Luffy replied simply. "I like her too."

Nojiko stretched out, arms resting over the back of the couch. "So, I heard you have to work tomorrow. So you're not coming to the beach for Nami's birthday?"

Luffy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"She's pretty beat up about it," Nojiko said, glancing at him.

"She said she didn't care just the other day if I was there or working," he muttered.

Nojiko raised a brow. "C'mon, you know better than that."

She stood, brushing invisible lint from her jumpsuit. "My opinion of you will go down significantly if you aren't there."

Luffy didn't answer. He just kept petting Callie.

Nojiko paused by the door. "I don't know what happened between you and my sister to make things all weird. She doesn't know either. But before anything else, you two are friends. And friends don't skip each other's birthdays. Keep that in mind."

She reached for the doorknob, but Luffy's voice stopped her.

"Nojiko!"

She turned around, one brow lifted. "Hm?"

"I was serious," Luffy said, finally looking up. "Call me if you two need a ride or need help. Please… stay safe tonight."

Nojiko's expression softened into a smirk. "Will do."

---

The music pulsed through the club, bass vibrating up through the floor and into Nami's heels as she slammed another shot glass down on the bar with a triumphant grin. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright under the club's moody, shifting lights. Nojiko stood beside her, sipping from her cocktail with a slow, measured pace, one eyebrow raised.

"Woah, slow down, tiger," she said over the music, eyeing the empty shot glass. "That's like your fifth in the past thirty minutes. We still have, like, an hour and a half until midnight."

Nami waved her off with a dramatic flourish. "I'm fine. I have a liver made of steel."

"Steel doesn't protect you from regret," Nojiko muttered into her glass, but Nami didn't hear her—or pretended not to.

Before she could say anything else, Nami grabbed her arm with both hands and tugged her away from the bar. "C'mon! Let's go dance!"

Nojiko laughed as she stumbled after her. "Alright, alright! But if you throw up on my shoes, I'm making you buy me new ones."

The lights flashed as the beat dropped, and the sisters melted into the rhythm—Nami letting the music take over, hips swaying, arms lifted, hair flicking behind her as she danced like she had something to shake off. And maybe she did.

The music pounded around them, bodies packed tight on the dancefloor as Nami and Nojiko danced under the glittering strobe lights. Nami twirled, her glittery dress catching the light, a sheen of sweat starting to form on her skin as she laughed breathlessly. Nojiko kept rhythm beside her, content to let Nami have her moment.

Then a hand tapped Nami's shoulder.

She turned around, blinking at the tall figure now standing behind her. "Hey!" she beamed, wrapping her arms around him without hesitation. "You actually showed up!"

Kidd grinned, arms briefly returning the hug before pulling back just enough to give her a once-over. "Wow, you look really sexy right now."

From the side, Nojiko raised a skeptical eyebrow. Her expression said everything.

Noticing, Nami quickly gestured between the two. "Oh, right! Kidd, this is my sister, Nojiko. She's here with me for the week. And Nojiko, you know Kidd—he's the guy from Tinder."

Nojiko's smile was tight. "Uh-huh. Nice to meet you, Kidd." Then to Nami, pointedly: "Can I borrow you for a second?"

Before Nami could protest, Nojiko grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the dancefloor, ducking into a quieter corner near the bathrooms.

"Nami, what the fuck are you doing?" she hissed, arms folding across her chest. "I told you that guy isn't your type. You said you were just talking to him as a distraction."

Nami huffed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Yeah, but after our talk, I realized you were right. I need to get over Luffy. And the easiest way to do that is to get feelings for someone else."

Nojiko gave her a deadpan stare, lips pressed tight. "That's not how feelings work, Nami."

"Oh, come on!" Nami groaned. "I know he's not my usual type, but we've actually been talking for a while and we have a few things in common."

"Like what?"

Nami held up her fingers. "Like… he likes going to concerts too. And he also likes money!"

Nojiko blinked. "Nami, everyone likes money. And your taste in music is vastly different. He's out here going to Rage Against the Machine and Green Day, and you go to Lana Del Ray and SZA."

Nami rolled her eyes. "Just… talk to him, okay? It's my birthday in like an hour. I want to have fun tonight."

Nojiko sighed but nodded slowly. "Fine, fine. Just you, me, and the random guy from Tinder."

---

Kidd leaned against the bar, his tattooed forearms resting on the sticky countertop as he nursed a dark liquor in a short glass. "Nightclubs aren't really my thing," he admitted, eyeing the pulsing lights on the dancefloor with mild disdain.

Nami let out a laugh, tipping her head back slightly. "Yeah, I can tell."

Nojiko, perched on the stool next to her, didn't even try to hide her smirk. "You're wearing ripped jeans with chains and spikes on them. Not exactly conducive to dancing."

Kidd glanced down at himself, unfazed. "Comfort over conformity. Besides, I didn't come here to dance—I came for the company."

Nami rolled her eyes playfully, then turned to Nojiko with a shrug. "Well, I think it's… unique."

"You always did have a thing for fixer-uppers," Nojiko murmured into her drink, just loud enough for Nami to hear.

Nami elbowed her gently. "Stop it."

Kidd raised an eyebrow. "Should I be offended?"

"No, no," Nami said quickly. "She's just…protective."

"Damn right I am," Nojiko muttered, finishing her drink. She set the empty glass down with a sharp clink and waved over the bartender. "Hey, can I get another gin and tonic?"

The bartender nodded and reached for her glass, but before he could take it away, Kidd's eyes snapped to the glass.

"Wait—hold up," Kidd said, reaching out. "Let me see that."

The bartender raised a brow. "It's empty. I was just going to wash it."

"Just give me the glass."

"What? Why—"

"I said hand me the fucking glass!" Kidd barked, voice cutting sharp through the music.

Startled, the bartender shoved it over. "Jesus, fine. You happy?"

Kidd didn't respond. He immediately stuck his hand in the glass and ran a finger along the bottom, inspecting it closely. His jaw clenched. "Shit…"

Nami leaned in, brow furrowed. "What? What is it?"

Kidd didn't answer. He snatched Nami's nearly-empty drink, swirled it, studied it, then stood abruptly—rage radiating off of him.

"Shit!" he shouted again, then turned to scan the crowd, voice rising over the bass, sharp and furious. "HEY! Which one of you limp-dicked fucks thought you could roofie their drinks while I was sitting right fucking here, huh?!"

Nami and Nojiko froze, eyes wide as Kidd's words sank in. The reality of what he was saying hit them like a cold wave, and both women immediately began to panic. Nami's hand shot to her throat, her heart racing as she tried to process what was happening.

"No... no way…" Nami stammered, her voice trembling. "I... I'm not—"

Nojiko shot her a frantic look, her face pale. "This... this can't be happening. Kidd, what the hell—"

But Kidd wasn't listening. He had stormed over to the bartender, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the ground. "Was it you? Huh, you fucking pussy?" Kidd growled, his grip tightening. "I'm giving you one chance to talk. Who the hell spiked their drinks?"

The bartender's face turned white, his eyes wide with terror as he shook his head violently. "No! I swear, it wasn't me! I didn't— I didn't do anything! Please, man! We can look at the tapes and-"

Kidd sneered, pulling the bartender closer, his voice a low growl. "Then who the fuck was it? You better start talking, or I'll make sure you regret it."

The bartender trembled as he responded in a shaky voice. "I told you! We've got cameras everywhere! Just let me call security, and we can look at the tapes!"

Nami's breath hitched. The room suddenly felt much smaller, the bass of the music pounding in her chest like a second heartbeat. Nojiko's hand reached out, grabbing Nami's wrist with a tight grip. "Nami, stay calm. We need to get out of here."

Kidd glanced back at them, his gaze shifting from the bartender to Nojiko and Nami. His eyes softened slightly as he released the bartender, who crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Look, I'm gonna find out who did this, alright?" Kidd said, his voice low but still filled with anger. "Don't move. Stay with me."

Nami swallowed hard, still struggling to make sense of everything. "Kidd… I don't— I don't feel right." Her words were barely a whisper, her hands trembling as she tried to steady herself. Nojiko's face mirrored her concern, eyes darting between her sister and Kidd.

Kidd didn't need another word. He grabbed Nami's arm, his grip firm but not forceful. "You're gonna be alright. Let's get you out of here, both of you."

Kidd crouched down, trying to help both Nami and Nojiko to their feet, his head whipping around as he scanned the room. His voice rang out, raw with rage.
"I'm gonna kick all your asses, you hear me?! You sick, pathetic fucks!"

Nami clutched weakly at his shoulder, her fingers barely holding on. "Kidd…"

He looked down, his voice softening just slightly. "Don't worry, Nami. I got you. I got both of you. We'll go straight to the hospital and—"

"No, Kidd…" she murmured, her eyes glassy. "Please… I wanna go home. Please… call Luffy…"

"What? No! You need a doctor, man—this is serious!" he said, panic rising in his throat.

"Please… Luffy…" Nami whispered one last time before her body went limp in his arms. A second later, Nojiko slumped as well, unconscious.

"Fuck. Fuck!" Kidd snapped, his voice cracking. Without hesitation, he scooped both women up—Nami cradled against his chest, Nojiko slung over his shoulder—and stormed toward the exit.

"Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?!" the bartender shouted, stepping into his path. "I already called the cops!"

Kidd didn't even slow. "Fuck you, and fuck this place! I'm taking them somewhere safe!"

He shoved past the door, shouldering into the night air, and gently laid both sisters against the wall outside. His hands were shaking as he fumbled for his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he found the one labeled Monkey the Moron (Soccer).

He hit Call.

It rang. And rang. Then finally—
"Hey Kidd… what's up? It's almost midnight…"

"Send me your address. Now," Kidd said, tight and breathless.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I need your fucking address, Luffy! Don't ask questions—just send it!" Kidd barked.

A pause. Then, "Fine, alright. There. I sent it. But what do you need it for at freaking midnight—?"

"Good. I'll see you soon," Kidd snapped, and hung up.

He hauled the sisters back into his arms and marched toward his car—but flashing red and blue lights cut him off. Two cops stepped out, guns not drawn, but hands hovering near their holsters.

"Hey! You! What do you think you're doing with those two women?" one shouted.

Kidd didn't stop. "I'm taking them somewhere safe! They got roofied in your damn jurisdiction and nobody here did a thing to stop it!"

The second officer stepped in his way. "Sir, we understand your concern, but you need to put them down and let medical personnel take over—"

"They don't have time to wait for your personnel!" Kidd snapped. "They're barely conscious! One of them asked me to take them home, to someone they trust. I have the address. Unless you're climbing in the car with me or helping carry them, get the hell out of my way!"

The officers exchanged a look—hesitant, uncertain. One finally lifted his radio.

"Dispatch, we've got two possible victims in critical condition. Suspect on scene claims they were drugged. Requesting immediate medical—"

"I said I'm not waiting!" Kidd snapped, voice like thunder. "Clear a path or shut the hell up!"

His voice cut through the night like a blade, but the officers were already on the move, speaking rapidly into their radios.

"Suspect is a young male, mid-twenties, over six feet tall. Red hair, red eyes. Driving a steel-gray early model Ford Mustang. License plate reads VICKYP. That's V as in Victor, I as in Indigo—"

At the curb, Kidd flung open the passenger door with his elbow and laid Nojiko down across the seat, careful not to jostle her too much. Then he circled around to the back and eased Nami in, adjusting her so her head rested softly against the seat. Her lips were parted slightly, breath shallow and uneven.

"Luffy better have your damn door unlocked…" Kidd muttered under his breath as he slammed the door shut and jumped behind the wheel.

Just as he started the engine, the two cops stepped in front of his car, hands raised.

"Sir! You need to stay here!"

Kidd revved the engine, eyes blazing. "Fuck you!"

In one fluid motion, he threw the car into reverse, tires screeching as he swung out in a tight arc, narrowly missing a parked cruiser. With a flick of the wheel, he shifted gears and tore off into the night, the Mustang roaring down the street, taillights bleeding red into the darkness.

---

Luffy sat hunched on the couch, elbows on his knees, phone clutched tight in his hand. The glow of the screen lit his face in the dark living room. Three missed calls to Kidd. Two to Nami. No responses. The "Happy Birthday!" text he sent her a while ago still sat on Delivered.

He stared at it like it might suddenly change.

Nothing.

He exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair. Something felt wrong.

Then—
WEE-OOH WEE-OOH—distant sirens.

He sat up straight.
The noise grew louder. Closer. Fast.

Doors creaked upstairs. Footsteps shuffled. One by one, the others stirred.

"The hell is that?" Zoro grumbled from the hallway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"The cops are never over here," Chopper yawned, tugging on his hoodie.

"Did someone kill somebody or what?" Sanji muttered, squinting through the blinds, his hair a mess.

As the sirens howled past the end of the block and started climbing their street, Luffy shot up and hurried out onto the back patio. The night air hit him cold and sharp—but not as sharp as the sight of Kidd's steel-gray Mustang barreling toward their driveway, headlights cutting through the dark like knives. Three police cruisers screamed close behind, lights flashing.

Luffy's stomach dropped. "Kidd…" he muttered, then spun and bolted inside.

"Oi! Luffy! What's going on?" Zoro called, confused as the rest of the crew started to gather by the sliding door.

Luffy didn't answer. He shoved the front door open with his shoulder and rushed outside just as Kidd screeched to a halt in the driveway, tires smoking. The Mustang's engine coughed and went quiet as Kidd jumped out, eyes wild, jaw clenched.

"Kidd!" Luffy called, running toward him. "What the hell is going on?!"

Behind him, the others poured out of the house—Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Jinbe, Brook, Chopper, Franky—all blinking against the flashing lights.

Kidd didn't even look at them. He was yanking open the back door of his car.

Then—

"FREEZE!"

The shout split the air like a gunshot.

Red and blue lights flashed across everyone's faces. The cops were out of their cruisers now, weapons drawn, pointed at the group.

"Hands in the air!" one of the officers barked. "Nobody move!"

Everyone froze.

Zoro's eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively twitching toward his waistband. Sanji stepped in front of Chopper and Brook, shielding them without thinking. Franky muttered under his breath, "The hell did you do, bro…"

Chopper's hands shot up, trembling. "P-Please don't shoot! We live here!"

Usopp, eyes wide, added with a panicked squeak, "Why are you worried? I'm the one who's black! God, this is how I die!"

Before anyone could respond, two officers stormed toward Kidd, grabbing him by the arms and slamming him against the side of his Mustang. Metal clanged. Kidd snarled but didn't resist as they snapped restraints onto his wrists.

"You are hereby under arrest for resisting law enforcement, fleeing a lawful stop, and suspicion of illegally drugging two individuals," one officer stated flatly.

"What?!" Luffy shouted, stepping forward. "Kidd didn't drug anyone!"

He stopped cold as more officers reached into the car, carefully pulling out Nami from the backseat. Nami's head lolled weakly to the side, her face pale.

"Nami!" Luffy yelled and tried to move toward her.

"Don't you move!" an officer shouted, gun still trained on him. "I said stay where you are!"

Jinbe raised his voice then, stepping forward with his hands open. "You don't understand—she lives here. This is her home. We're her roommates!"

One of the officers paused, casting a glance at the house behind them—lights on, doors wide open, more confused, pajama-clad young adults standing on the porch.

"She wasn't kidnapped," Jinbe added firmly. "She must have asked him for help."

The air crackled with tension, sirens still whining faintly in the distance. Kidd, restrained and panting against the hood of his car, jerked his head toward them. "I told you," he spat. "They asked me to bring them here."

"Please!" Chopper cried, stepping forward, his hands still in the air. "Let me help them! I'm a doctor!"

One of the officers turned toward him, visibly hesitating. "You a licensed medical professional?"

"I'm still in med school, but still!" Chopper pleaded, his voice cracking. "They don't have time to wait for an ambulance—look at them!"

The officer glanced back at Nami and Nojiko—limp, pale—and cursed under his breath. He lowered his weapon slightly.

"Alright, alright—slowly," he said. "Hands where I can see them. Keep it calm."

Chopper nodded frantically and moved in with careful urgency. He dropped to his knees beside Nami first, checking her pulse, then gently tilted her head to open her airway.

"She's breathing, but it's shallow," he said. "Skin's clammy. Pupils are constricted. It's gotta be some kind of depressant, maybe GHB—she needs fluids and monitoring now."

He looked over to Nojiko, still slumped over in the passenger seat. "Same symptoms. No major injuries, but they're both crashing."

Sanji stepped forward, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Nami. "What can we do?"

"I need water, towels—ice packs if you have them!" Chopper barked.

"I got it!" Franky turned and sprinted toward the house.

Meanwhile, another officer was speaking rapidly into his radio, calling in for EMTs and toxicology backup. The rest slowly lowered their weapons, confusion flickering across their faces.

"They really live here?" one of them muttered.

"Yes," Jinbe said firmly. "Every one of us lives here—except for him"—he nodded toward Kidd—"and the woman with the blue hair. She's Nami's sister. But Nami? She's ours. She's family."

Kidd, still cuffed and leaning against the car, exhaled sharply through his nose. "Told you pigs. She asked me to bring her here. That's all I did."

Luffy stepped up beside Chopper, his gaze locked on Nami as Chopper worked over her with practiced urgency. His fists were clenched, jaw set tight. He didn't say anything—but the heat rolling off him said enough.

---

The flashing lights were starting to fade as the squad cars pulled away, the hum of the engines low under the weight of everything left behind. Kidd sat in the back of the cruiser, head bowed, face unreadable behind the tinted glass as the car disappeared down the street.

Everyone remained out front, rooted to the pavement like they couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

Chopper was crouched near the ambulance, speaking quickly but clearly to the EMTs as they worked. "Heart rate was elevated, breathing shallow, pupils uneven. I stabilized Nami's neck. They were both unconscious by the time they arrived. I think they were drugged—possibly a benzo, maybe GHB—but I didn't have anything to test it with. Whatever it was may very likely be laced with something else."

"You did good," one of the EMTs nodded, scribbling on a clipboard. "Real good. You said you're a med student?"

Chopper nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah. Just started actually."

Jinbe stood nearby, speaking with another EMT. "Can you give us their names and ages?"

Jinbe answered without pause. "The one with the orange hair is Nami. She actually just turned twenty-three—about an hour ago."

The EMT grimaced. "Well… damn. That's a rough way to start your birthday." He glanced toward the other stretcher. "And the other one?"

"Her sister," Jinbe said. "Nojiko. Twenty-six."

Not far away, Luffy stood silently near the open doors of the ambulance, his hands curled around the frame as he watched the EMTs finish securing the gurneys inside. His eyes hadn't left Nami since they carried her out of the driveway.

As one of the paramedics climbed in, Luffy stepped forward. "Wait—can we come with you?" he asked, voice low but urgent.

The paramedic looked him over. "Immediate family only, kid."

"She is family," Luffy said, sharper this time. "I don't care what kind of paperwork says otherwise. I'm not letting her ride off alone like that."

There was a pause. Then the paramedic softened. "One of you. Maybe two. But it'll be tight."

"I'm going," Luffy said, without hesitation.

"I'll go too," Chopper added quickly, wiping his hands on his hoodie.

The EMT nodded, waving them in. "Alright. Get in and hang on."

---

The sterile hum of the hospital filled the background like a low drumbeat—steady, clinical, cold. Fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting the room in pale blue. Nami lay on the hospital bed, her face too still, an oxygen tube nestled beneath her nose, an IV drip ticking time into her veins.

Luffy sat beside her, hunched forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and hands folded like a prayer he didn't know how to say. He hadn't stopped watching her, even once.

Across from him, Chopper stood near the sink, wringing his hands as he scanned her vitals on the monitor. Everything had stabilized since they arrived, but he still didn't look any less worried.

The door clicked open and in strode Dr. Kureha, her white coat billowing behind her like a cape, stethoscope already slung around her neck. She looked like she hadn't slept in 36 hours—but her eyes were sharp, and her presence filled the room like a thunderclap.

"What the hell happened to my patient?" she snapped.

Chopper turned, standing at attention before she'd even finished the sentence. "Mom—uh, Dr. Kureha, I tried to get her hydrated and monitor her breathing in the ambulance. Her pupils were uneven at first, and she was barely conscious, so I—"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "Relax, Tony. You did good." She walked briskly to the bedside, eyes flicking to the chart at the foot of the bed and then back to Nami's face. "She's stable. That's something."

Luffy looked up. "She's gonna be okay, right?"

Kureha met his gaze. "If what you're telling me is right, and she was drugged—then yes. But we won't know for sure what's in her system until the labs come back. The important thing is, you got her here in time."

Luffy swallowed and looked back at Nami, his hand inching toward hers on the bed but stopping short. "I sent her a birthday text. She never even opened it…"

Dr. Kureha gave him a sidelong glance, then turned her attention back to the IV line. "She'll have time to read it later."

Chopper stepped toward the door, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. "I'm gonna go check on Nojiko," he said quietly.

"You know which room?" Kureha asked.

"Yeah, they told me. I'll be back in a bit."

Luffy nodded silently as Chopper slipped out, the door easing shut behind him.

Kureha placed a gentle hand on Nami's forehead, brushing a strand of hair back. Then, almost to herself, she muttered, "You're not allowed to scare people like this, sweetheart. It's not your style."

The door opened again with a soft creak. A younger nurse stepped in—dark eyes, light blue hair tied up in a messy bun under her scrub cap. She held a clipboard tight to her chest and looked between Luffy and Dr. Kureha with the kind of seriousness that instantly killed small talk.

"Dr. Kureha," she said quietly, "their labs just came back."

Kureha turned sharply, holding out her hand without a word. Tristan passed her the clipboard, then lingered by the door, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Kureha scanned the results with quick, practiced eyes. The furrow in her brow deepened as she flipped to the second page.

"Doxylamine. Diazepam. Atypical sedatives—looks like a cocktail of sleep aids and benzos, some prescription, some definitely not. No wonder they were knocked out so fast."

Luffy's heart dropped. "But… they're gonna be okay, right?"

Tristan stepped forward, offering a gentler look. "It's good that they didn't take them on an empty stomach. And they weren't given anything lethal—just enough to knock someone out cold for a long time."

Kureha nodded. "If they'd been left alone for too long, their heart rates could've bottomed out. But now that they're hydrated and under watch, they'll recover. Slowly."

Luffy's gaze flicked back to Nami, watching her chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Mm." Kureha handed the clipboard back to Tristan. "Send this to the police department—they'll want it for the report. And update the sister's chart while you're at it. Same drug cocktail?"

"Yeah," Tristan confirmed with a nod. "Almost identical concentrations."

Kureha gave a tight nod, then turned her sharp eyes back to Luffy. "I'm going to check on Nojiko. You stay put. And drink some water before you keel over."

She paused at the doorway, then added dryly, "You know it's three in the morning, right? Nami's not going anywhere. Why don't you head home and get some sleep? Or do you not trust that Chopper and I can keep her breathing without you hovering?"

Luffy shook his head stubbornly. "Of course I trust Chopper."

"Good," Kureha said, already turning for the door. "Now go home and sleep. Let us take care of the rest."

Luffy slumped back into the stiff hospital chair, arms crossed. "I'm not going anywhere. And I'm definitely not sleeping until she wakes up."

Kureha paused, then let out a dry, knowing laugh. "You're a stubborn little brat."

She snapped her fingers once. "Tristan, get the kid some water. Then meet me over at Nojiko's room."

"On it, Doctor," Tristan said, flashing Luffy a small smile before hurrying off.

Kureha disappeared down the hall, her lab coat billowing behind her. Tristan returned a moment later, holding out a glass of water. "Here," she said gently, handing it to Luffy. "Feel free to page us if you need anything, or if something happens."

"Thanks," Luffy mumbled, taking the glass. Tristan offered him a sympathetic look before quietly stepping out of the room.

He watched the door for a second, then looked back at Nami. With a sigh, he stood up and set the glass on the side table beside her bed. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest under the thin hospital blanket gave him the smallest measure of relief, but the sight of her—so still, so pale—tightened something in his chest.

Her makeup was still on, though it was smudged and streaked, a mess of glitter and eyeliner dried unevenly on her skin. She was going to be pissed when she woke up and realized she spent her birthday night like this.

Luffy walked quietly over to the sink in the corner of the room, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser and wetting it with cool water. He wrung it out, then came back to her bedside. Gently, he started to dab at the makeup around her eyes, careful not to press too hard.

"Dammit, Nami," he muttered under his breath, voice tight. "You gotta quit doing this. You've already almost died twice in the past couple months. It's not fair to me."

His fingers slowed, pausing just above her cheek. He swallowed hard, then went back to wiping away the last of the mascara beneath her lashes. "Or to Nojiko. Or to anyone else who cares about you."

His eyes flicked up to her face again, waiting for even the smallest flicker of awareness. There was none.

Luffy stayed at her side, folding the damp paper towel in his hands as he watched her sleep—though sleep didn't feel like the right word for it. Not when she'd been drugged and dropped into unconsciousness without warning or choice.

"Thanks for getting Kidd to bring you home," he murmured quietly. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know what would've happened if you just… never came home. If we had to find out by chance that you were in the hospital."

He let the silence settle between them for a few beats, staring at her face, now clean but drawn and pale under the sterile lights. Her lashes twitched faintly, but she didn't stir.

"Why were you with him, anyway?" Luffy asked, his brows furrowing. "I know you guys both liked each other or whatever on that dating app but... is that why you didn't want anyone to go out with you except Nojiko? Because you were on a date?"

He looked down, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. "Kidd is a good person," he said, as if reminding himself out loud. "He even went to jail tonight… just to make sure you got back safe. He didn't run. Not really. He drove straight home. To us."

Luffy sat back in the chair again, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together tight. "He's my friend. But…" He hesitated, then said with a weight in his chest, "It's my job to protect you. Not his."

His voice cracked slightly. "I should've been there with you. Not him."

---

The sunlight of midday was seeping through the one window in the room. Nami stirred, just a twitch of her fingers at first, then the slow, unfocused flutter of her eyelids. The heart monitor beside her let out a faint change in rhythm—still steady, but different enough that it made Luffy jolt upright in his chair.

"Nami!" he gasped, eyes wide.

She blinked slowly, like the light in the room was too much, or like she wasn't entirely sure where she was. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Luffy scrambled to the call button and slammed it with the side of his fist. "She's awake! She's waking up—someone get in here!"

A tense moment passed. Then hurried footsteps echoed in the hall.

The door burst open as Dr. Kureha stormed in, Tristan right behind her, and Chopper practically skidding to a stop next to Luffy.

"Vitals are still stable," Tristan said, already grabbing the chart and checking the monitors.

"Good. Let's confirm cognitive response," Kureha said briskly, leaning over Nami and gently tapping her cheek. "Hey, brat. You with us?"

Nami's eyes sluggishly moved toward the sound of her voice. She gave a tiny, confused frown.

Chopper was already pulling a penlight from his coat pocket. "Pupils are responsive," he reported, voice both anxious and relieved. "She's definitely conscious, just really dazed."

Luffy, still standing off to the side, looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't trust his voice. His hands were shaking slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline, his eyes locked on Nami like she might disappear if he looked away for even a second.

"She's gonna be okay," Chopper said, turning to him with a small smile. "She's really waking up."

Luffy nodded quickly, swallowing hard, and stepped closer to the bed. "Hey, Nami," he said softly, gripping the bed rail. "You're safe. You're home. We've got you."

"This is great!" Kureha said with a rare, pleased grin as she checked Nami's reflexes. "Nojiko woke up about an hour ago, too. She was groggy as hell, but lucid. She even cursed me out, so I'd say she's back to baseline."

Luffy blinked, eyes lighting up. "She's okay too?"

"Yeah," Chopper confirmed, stepping in beside him. "Vitals are normal, no signs of lasting damage. You both got lucky."

Kureha glanced at him. "Lucky is one word. That cocktail they were drugged with? It's no joke. Any longer in that car and we might've had a very different conversation this morning."

Luffy looked back at Nami, whose eyes were still half-lidded but beginning to track movement. Her fingers twitched again, this time brushing slightly against the blanket. Her breathing was a little deeper now. She was there.

"Nami," he said softly, crouching down beside her bed so she could see him clearly. "Hey… can you hear me?"

Her brow furrowed faintly, and for a split second, her gaze seemed to lock with his. Her lips moved—barely audible—but he leaned in and caught it.

"Lu…ffy?"

He laughed, soft and shaky with relief, and nodded. "Yeah. I'm right here."

Kureha straightened and gave Tristan a nod. "Update her chart. We'll keep her under observation for the day, but if she keeps improving, she can go home tomorrow."

Tristan scribbled a quick note. "On it."

"Chopper, you stay with her. I'll go check on the sister again. Kid"—Kureha pointed a finger at Luffy—"you're still running on fumes. You will take a nap today or I'll sedate you myself."

Luffy just grinned tiredly and waved her off, never taking his eyes off Nami.

"Not until she's better," he said. "Then I'll sleep for a week."

Chopper reached down, gently taking Nami's hand in his. "Hey! Nami, guess what?" he said, his voice bright and trembling just a little. "It's your birthday today!"

Nami blinked again, her brows twitching in faint confusion.

"I don't think we'll be making it to the beach today," Chopper went on with a sheepish smile, "but there's… there's quite a few people in the waiting room who want to say hi to you. They've been camped out there since last night."

He glanced at her hopefully, giving her hand a little squeeze. "Do you mind if I let them in?"

Her lips parted, breath faint and raspy, but she managed a ghost of a smile—small, crooked, but unmistakable. Her eyelids fluttered slowly, and her fingers curled slightly in his.

Chopper turned to Luffy, beaming. "She smiled! Did you see that?!"

Luffy, still crouched beside her, nodded quickly, eyes a little wet. "I saw it."

"Alright!" Chopper said, gently setting her hand back down. "I'll go get them. Just hang in there, okay?"

He gave her one last squeeze before running out the door, nearly colliding with Tristan on the way out.

Nami shifted slightly, her brows furrowing as she slowly tried to push herself up. Her limbs trembled with the effort.

"Whoa, hey, careful," Luffy said quickly, rising to help her. He slid an arm behind her back and steadied her with the other. "You just woke up. Don't push it."

With his help, she managed to sit up a little, propped against the pillows. Her breaths were shallow but steadier now, color starting to return to her face.

She turned her head toward him, still groggy, eyes searching his face. "Is today… really my birthday?"

Luffy smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah. It is."

Nami blinked slowly, processing that. "I thought… you were working today?" she asked, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

He let out a quiet laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything. Sorry for making you think I would."

Her lips curved into a faint, tired smile. She looked around the room, her brows knitting again. "What… happened? Why… am I in the hospital?"

Luffy's smile faded just a little. He sat down beside her again, his expression gentle. "You don't remember anything?"

She shook her head slowly, a crease forming between her brows.

"You came home with Kidd," he said carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her. "You and Nojiko… you were both drugged. But you're okay now. You're safe."

Nami's eyes widened slightly. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Nojiko's okay too," Luffy added quickly. "She woke up a little before you. Chopper and Dr. Kureha were with her."

Nami's gaze dropped to the sheets in her lap, hands trembling slightly. "I… I don't remember. I just remember drinks. Laughing. Dancing. Then—nothing."

Luffy reached out and gently covered her hand with his. "Don't worry about it right now, just relax."

Chopper poked his head in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "Alright, remember—she just woke up. Don't overwhelm her. And don't be loud."

A few hushed giggles followed his warning.

Then he stepped into the room, and one by one, a parade of familiar faces filtered in behind him.

Zoro came first, hands stuffed in his pockets but clearly relieved. Usopp trailed just behind him, carrying a balloon bouquet nearly the size of his head. Sanji followed with a small box tucked under one arm and a tray of covered food in the other. Franky gave a thumbs-up as he passed through the door, and Jinbe offered a respectful nod to Nami. Brook floated in last among the roommates, humming gently under his breath, carrying a flower crown in his bony fingers.

And then came the girls.

Shirahoshi, wide-eyed and clutching a plush dolphin. Kaya, neat and composed as always, holding a slim gift bag. Pudding had a homemade cake box carefully balanced in her hands, while Lola brought a handful of handmade cards and stickers. Camie bounded in with a colorful "Happy Birthday" banner she'd clearly made herself. Carina entered last, her arms crossed, but her expression soft and worried.

Nami blinked, stunned.

They came in slowly, keeping to Chopper's orders, scattering around the room with gentle smiles and murmured hellos. A few sniffles escaped despite the effort to keep it quiet.

Luffy leaned in close to her ear. "Told you there were a lot of people who wanted to say hi."

Nami's eyes welled, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of warmth and love. Her voice was barely a whisper. "You… you all came?"

Usopp grinned, stepping forward with the balloons. "Of course we did! You think we'd miss your birthday just 'cause you're in the hospital?"

"Especially after you went to all the trouble of planning it," Sanji added, setting the tray down on the counter. "Least we could do is bring the party to you."

"We figured it wouldn't be the same without you," Jinbe said kindly.

"We saved you some beach sand," Franky chimed in, "and I brought a mini stereo if you're up for music later!"

Nami let out a small, disbelieving laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. "You guys…"

Camie stepped up beside her and gently laid the banner across the foot of the bed. "We love you, Nami."

"Happy birthday," Carina said softly, her voice barely audible but sincere.

Nami looked around the room—at all the gifts, the balloons, the people she loved—and blinked back fresh tears. For the first time since waking up, she she grinned so wide all you could see was teeth.

The door eased open again with a soft creak, and Dr. Kureha rolled in, pushing another hospital bed—this one holding a groggy but awake Nojiko, propped up slightly with a pillow behind her back.

"Figured," Kureha said dryly, steering the bed next to Nami's, "since you two are both awake now, that you'd appreciate each other's company."

Nojiko turned her head slowly, still pale but offering her sister a soft, teasing smile. "Looks like I didn't miss the whole party after all."

Nami's eyes widened. "Noji!"

Tears sprang back to the surface as she reached out, and Nojiko met her halfway, the two sisters holding hands over the narrow space between their beds.

"I was so scared," Nami whispered.

"Me too," Nojiko murmured. "But you're okay. We're both okay."

Kureha gave an approving grunt and crossed her arms. "Just keep those heart rates steady while you're crying all over each other. I didn't drag this bed down the hall just for a melodramatic fainting spell."

Everyone chuckled softly—carefully, respectfully—relieved by the moment of humor.

Chopper, standing near the foot of Nami's bed, beamed. "Vitals are stable. Nojiko's responding well to fluids, and Nami's already showing signs of full orientation. You're both gonna be okay."

Tristan poked her head in from the hallway with a tablet. "I've got updated meds and discharge timelines when you're ready, Doc."

"Later," Kureha waved her off. "Let them have this."

Luffy had returned to his seat, but he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the sisters with a softness in his expression that rarely made an appearance. Nami caught his eye and mouthed, thank you.

He gave her a small grin in return, like it was no big deal. Like he hadn't spent the night pacing, crying, and fighting sleep just to be there when she woke up.

Brook, ever gentle, stepped toward Nojiko and played a soft note on a little travel-sized keyboard he'd somehow snuck in.

"Happy birthday to you…" he sang quietly, the rest of the room joining in, voices tender and full of love.

It wasn't the beach. It wasn't the sun. But it was warm.

And it was enough.

---

Nojiko held the phone up between her and Nami, angling it so Bellemere and Genzo could see both of them on the screen. Their mother's face filled most of the frame, her short hair slightly messy, eyes wide with disbelief and fury.

"What the hell do you mean you're both in the hospital right now?!" Bellemere barked, her voice echoing through the room and making even Zoro flinch a little in the corner.

Genzo was behind her, arms crossed tightly and jaw clenched. "You better start explaining, now."

Nami winced and gave a sheepish smile, still leaning back in her bed. "Hi, Mom… Happy birthday to me?"

"Oh, don't you start with that," Bellemere snapped, pointing at the screen like she could reach through it. "Nojiko, what happened?"

Nojiko sighed, glancing at Nami before speaking. "We went out last night. It was supposed to be just a chill thing. Drinks, music, beach plans for the next morning."

"And then someone drugged both of you," Genzo said grimly, clearly already filled in on at least part of the story.

"Yeah…" Nami muttered. "That part wasn't in the plan."

Bellemere groaned and rubbed her face with both hands. "I told you not to trust strangers with your drinks. I swear to god, if I find out who did this—"

"Cops are already on it, Mom," Nojiko said quickly. "Relax, you aren't in the military anymore. What are you gonna do about it all the way from Cocoyashi?"

Nami glanced at the still-snoozing Luffy in the chair beside her bed. His head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, his arms crossed, mouth slightly open in a light snore.

"Luffy never left," she said softly.

Bellemere's sharp eyes followed her gaze. "That boy…"

"I don't think he slept at all," Nami added.

Bellemere was quiet for a second, and when she spoke again, her voice had lost its edge. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I know," Nami said. "I'm sorry."

"Well, you're gonna be more sorry when I get there," Bellemere warned. "I'm driving down there right now. Don't even think about stopping me."

"Mom," Nojiko groaned. "We're literally in good hands—"

"I have hands," Bellemere snapped. "And I'll use them. To slap some sense into both of you and then give you a hug."

That made Nami laugh—a soft, real one—and even Genzo cracked a small smile.

"We love you," Nojiko said.

"Yeah," Nami echoed. "Love you. We're okay."

"You better be," Bellemere said, though her voice wavered just a little. "I'll call back in two hours. I expect a snack in your hand and color in your face by then."

"Got it, Nurse Bellemere," Nami joked as they ended the call.

As soon as the screen went black, she let her head fall back against the pillow with a sigh.

Nojiko grinned sideways at her. "Think she'll actually wait the full two hours?"

"Absolutely not."

They both started laughing—quiet, careful laughs—but full of relief and warmth. Around them, the rest of the gang smiled and exchanged small glances of comfort.

Luffy was fast asleep, but stirred slightly at the sound and shifted in his chair, mumbling something under his breath about "cake first, then bugs."

The room quieted a bit as the officer stepped closer, clipboard in hand. He was young but carried the air of someone used to speaking gently in delicate situations. His voice remained calm and respectful as he addressed the sisters.

"Hello," he said with a faint smile. "You both are looking a lot better since we last saw you. How are you feeling?"

Nami gave a dry little scoff. "Alive, I guess."

Nojiko rubbed at her temples with one hand. "My head hurts worse than any hangover I've ever had."

The officer gave a sympathetic nod. "I'm really sorry to hear that. I don't mean to intrude, but we still have some questions we're hoping you can answer for us."

Nami straightened slightly in her bed. "Did you find the guy who did this to us? That's all I care about. And before you ask—yes. We absolutely want to press charges or whatever it takes."

He nodded. "Yeah. We found him. We reviewed the security tapes from the club and got a match. Guy already has a criminal record—surprise, surprise." He pulled a small photo from the clipboard and held it up so both women could see. "This is his picture. Do either of you recognize him?"

Nami leaned forward a bit, squinting. Nojiko tilted her head and studied the man's face. After a beat, they both shook their heads.

"No," Nami said. "Never seen him."

"Not familiar at all," Nojiko echoed.

The officer sighed through his nose, tucking the photo back. "Figures. Some of these sickos like to drug girls just for the hell of it. Sometimes for no reason at all—just to hurt someone."

The officer gave them a moment before continuing. "I have a few more questions. We apprehended a man named Eustass Kidd—"

At that, Nami's eyes narrowed slightly, and Nojiko sat up a bit straighter.

"—he had you both in his vehicle," the officer explained. "He dropped you off at your place of residence, and we managed to catch up with him just outside. He's currently at the station. We've already heard his side of the story—we just want to make sure it lines up with what you remember. Don't worry if things are hazy. Memory loss is common with these kinds of drugs, so just try your best."

Sanji, who had been cutting cake in the corner, blinked and leaned forward. "Yeah, we've all been wondering. Why was Luffy's soccer teammate the one who brought you home?"

Usopp nodded, just as confused. "Was he just at the club and ran into you? Like, what's the story? We're stumped."

The officer turned back to the sisters. "Is Eustass Kidd a friend of yours?"

Nojiko scoffed, "Not at all."

Nami groaned, rubbing her eyes. "No. Yes? Ugh… this is embarrassing. I had a few drinks at the club and… I messaged him on Tinder. Asked him to come hang out."

Chopper, Usopp, Shirahoshi, Kaya, and Camie all burst out, "WHAT?! You went on a date with Eustass Kidd?!"

Lola, Pudding, and Carina exchanged baffled looks. "Wait—who is Eustass Kidd?"

Jinbe offered calmly, "He's on the university's soccer team with Luffy."

Franky chimed in, "Yeah, we've seen him at Luffy's matches."

Zoro tilted his head, unimpressed. "Red hair, bad attitude. That guy?"

Sanji and Brook looked positively wounded. "Nami… went on a Tinder date… with that guy?!"

The officer patiently resumed, flipping through his notes. "Right. Well, Eustass told us the same thing. Said he realized pretty quickly that you were both in rough shape—likely drugged—and that you asked him to take you home instead of to the hospital. He claims he then contacted his teammate, a Mr. Monkey D. Luffy, to get your address."

He glanced up from his notes. "We checked his phone, and the call logs and messages line up with that story. Can either of you confirm that?"

Nami sighed, her expression thoughtful. "I honestly don't remember much, but… yeah. That sounds about right."

The officer made a quick note. "Alright. That's all I needed from you."

As he started to turn away, Nami called after him, "Wait—hey, is Kidd okay?"

The officer paused, then gave a half-nod. "Physically? Yeah, he's fine. Criminally? Not so much. He's facing a few charges. He ignored security at the club who told him to wait for medics, then took off—way over the speed limit. We had to chase his car for over ten miles before he finally pulled over."

The room went quiet.

"At least now, with your statements and what we've found, we can clear him of being involved in the drugging. But still, he's in trouble. That said, I doubt the charges will stick too hard. Honestly, we messed up too—he wasn't read his Miranda rights at the time of arrest. And from what I'm hearing… this was your first date?"

Nami gave a sheepish nod.

The officer cracked a small, amused smile. "Well… for a first date with a guy from Tinder, he seems pretty damn committed. Did all that just to make sure you got home safe."

He glanced around at the stunned faces in the room, then added under his breath, "Off the record? That's kind of metal. If I were you, I'd think about giving him a second shot—maybe one that ends less dramatically."

He moved toward the door, nodding politely. "Alright. I'll let you rest. We'll be in touch if we need anything else."

He paused in the doorway and turned back to Nami with a faint smile. "Oh—and happy birthday."

As the door clicked shut behind the officer, a tense silence lingered in the room—until Nami slowly turned her head and found nearly every pair of eyes locked directly on her.

Luffy, still slouched in the chair beside her bed, had one eye cracked open. It flicked toward her for a moment—curious—but when she glanced his way, he shut it again and tilted his head back like he hadn't heard a thing.

Nojiko groaned and tugged her blanket over her face, muttering, "Not my circus, not my Tinder match…"

Then the floodgates opened.

"NAMI," Sanji wailed, dramatically clinging to the side of her bed, "a Tinder date?! With that guy?! You could've died! From bad taste alone!"

"I'm sorry," Usopp interrupted, waving his arms, "I'm still stuck on the fact that it was Eustass Kidd. Like, were there no red flags? Did his profile just say 'likes long walks and felony charges'?"

"Did he have a picture holding a fish?" Camie asked curiously, cocking her head.

"Or a gym selfie?" Kaya added, leaning forward with a grin.

"Did you match with him first?" Pudding gasped. "Or did he swipe on you?!"

"I need to see the profile," Carina insisted, whipping out her phone. "This is not over, I demand screenshots."

Shirahoshi was holding a balloon like a shield. "I'm just really glad you're okay," she said softly, though even she looked stunned.

Franky crossed his arms, then nodded slowly. "Okay, but like… if we're being real… that was kind of hardcore. He outran cops for you. That's dedication."

Brook struck a dramatic pose. "A first date so intense, it nearly ended in tragedy… sounds like the plot to a power ballad!"

Zoro was just watching her with a raised brow from the far corner. "Still don't know what you saw in him, but hey, you're alive."

Jinbe, ever the calmest in the room, simply asked, "Was it a good conversation, at least? Before everything?"

Nami groaned and dragged a hand over her face, which was rapidly turning red. "Okay! Enough! Can everyone please just stop talking about it like I married him?! It was one bad decision and some slightly okay texting!"

Sanji clutched his chest like she'd stabbed him. "Slightly okay? You wanted him to take you home!"

"I was drugged!" she snapped, then instantly softened. "Sorry. I just… I don't remember any of it past inviting him out."

Everyone quieted down a bit at that, sobering at the reminder.

Nami leaned back into her pillow, eyes flicking toward the sleeping Luffy—his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, completely still.

She felt a strange little flutter in her chest, then shook her head and exhaled. "Can we just… move on? I really don't want my birthday to be remembered as the day I almost died and got interrogated about my love life."

Pudding leaned over and handed her a cupcake with a candle already in it. "Deal. But you are telling us if he messages you again."

---

It was the next day- the day Nami and Nojiko were cleared to go home. The elevator doors dinged as they opened onto the hospital's main floor. Nami and Nojiko stepped out slowly, walking a bit stiffly but upright, each with a paper bag of medications in one hand and wearing oversized sunglasses they'd been given to help with the light sensitivity.

Chopper trailed behind with their discharge paperwork, while Sanji proudly walked ahead, practically skipping with excitement.

Nami stopped in front of a reflective window, glanced at her own reflection, and then turned slowly—dangerously—toward Sanji.

"Sanji," she said, voice tight with forced politeness, "I would thank you for bringing me and Nojiko a change of clothes, but what the hell are these outfits?!"

Sanji twirled dramatically. "Only the best for my queens!"

Nojiko looked down at herself with wide, horrified eyes. "I look like I got thrown into a Miami nightclub and lost."

Nami's outfit was a chaotic mix of bold patterns and neon. She wore a high-waisted, sequined gold skirt that sparkled aggressively under the fluorescent hospital lights, paired with a hot pink crop top with "Sun's Out, Buns Out" printed across the chest in glitter font. A mesh cardigan with rhinestones loosely hung over her shoulders, and Sanji had even provided a pair of platform sandals that clicked loudly with every step.

Nojiko was in lime green biker shorts and a black tube top that read "Vibe Check Failed." Over it, she wore a sheer animal-print kimono, and her feet were shoved into wedge heels that were at least two sizes too big. A chunky silver necklace with a pineapple pendant finished off the look.

"Where did you even find these?" Nami demanded, holding out the hem of her skirt like it offended her.

"There's a twenty-four-hour fashion boutique downtown!" Sanji beamed. "The aesthetic was 'post-trauma glam'—I had to guess your sizes since I wasn't allowed in the patient room."

Nojiko blinked at him. "Post-trauma glam? What even is that?"

Sanji, looking far too pleased with himself, struck a dramatic pose as if he were presenting a fashion runway. "Exactly! You've both survived a near-death experience. You deserve to look like survivors. Strong. Stylish. Stunning."

Nami looked down at herself, incredulous. "Sanji, I am wearing a cardigan with freaking rhinestones on it!"

"And I," Nojiko added, frowning at her reflection in a hospital window, "am wearing animal print. Last time I wore animal print I was like, seven!"

"It's a statement," Sanji said proudly. "Resilience with edge. Trauma but make it couture."

Usopp piped up from behind them, camera already in hand. "You both kinda look like backup dancers in a pop-punk comeback tour, not gonna lie."

Nami groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I almost died and now I have to walk out of here looking like Kesha's long-lost cousin."

Nojiko crossed her arms. "If Bellemere sees us like this, we're never hearing the end of it."

Sanji placed a hand over his heart, wounded. "Fashion is about emotion, ladies. And what could be more emotional than almost dying and coming back fabulous?"

Nami gave him a flat look. "I'm taking your credit card the next time we go shopping. This is revenge."

Sanji grinned. "Fair trade."

Chopper trotted up beside them, holding out two water bottles. "You guys ready to go? Luffy and Zoro are already arguing over who gets to carry your stuff."

Nojiko smirked. "Zoro better win. Luffy's gonna fall asleep halfway to the parking lot."

Nami, still adjusting the ridiculous blouse, sighed as she started walking. "Let's just get out of here before someone else sees us like this."

Franky, holding a giant glitter balloon outside the front doors, waved enthusiastically. "YOU GUYS LOOK SUPER AMAZING!"

Nami whispered to Nojiko as they walked past. "We are never letting Sanji pack for us again."

Nojiko whispered back, "Next time? I'm faking a coma."

Usopp suddenly darted in front of them, eyes wide with excitement, camera already raised. "Say cheese!"

Both Nami and Nojiko barely had time to register what was happening. "Wait—" Nami started.

Click!

Nojiko's mouth was half-open in what looked like the beginning of a protest, one hand blurred mid-grab at the lens. Nami was caught mid-turn with a deadpan expression and her hair half in her face. Neither of them looked remotely ready—or remotely fashionable—in that exact moment. It was, undeniably, a terrible picture. But despite all her complaints—and the threats to Usopp's well-being—the photo would later end up printed and pinned onto Nami's photo wall back home. Right next to the picture of her and Luffy on the car ride home, and the group picture the girls took at Shirahoshi's swim meet.

---

It was a bright, breezy morning—one of those rare, perfect-weather days that made the city smell less like car exhaust and more like spring. Nojiko was finishing up loading the last of her bags into the back of her old truck, the bed rattling slightly as she slammed the tailgate shut.

Nami stood beside her, arms wrapped tightly around her older sister. "Sorry we didn't get to make it to the beach," she said quietly, guilt still faint in her voice.

Nojiko chuckled, squeezing her tighter. "Don't sweat it. I've got a beach waiting for me back at Cocoyashi." She leaned back, smirking. "Which Callie and I will be heading straight to."

She turned to look for the dog, her voice immediately dropping into that singsongy tone reserved only for babies and pets. "Isn't that right, Ca—huh? Callie?"

But Callie was nowhere near the truck.

Nojiko blinked, then looked a few feet away to find every single man from the house—Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Chopper, Franky, and Jinbe—absolutely swarming the poor Shiba Inu like she was a pop idol on a farewell tour.

Luffy was on the ground, letting Callie lick his face while giggling uncontrollably.

Usopp was holding up a tiny bandana and trying to get her to sit still long enough to tie it around her neck.

Sanji, of course, had prepared a tiny dog-safe biscuit shaped like a bone and was offering it with a flourish. "For the little lady, made with the finest oats and a whisper of peanut butter!"

Franky was already working on a miniature pair of sunglasses for her, while Chopper softly brushed her tail and whispered something about hydration and fur texture.

Jinbe was respectfully petting her head, a peaceful smile on his face as Callie leaned against his leg like he was some ancient tree.

Zoro? He was trying to look disinterested, standing off to the side with crossed arms… but his hand was slowly reaching down to scratch behind her ears when he thought no one was looking.

Nojiko stared at the scene, utterly bewildered. "What the hell…"

Nami just laughed. "Yeah. Good luck getting her back now."

Nojiko let out a sharp whistle.

Callie's ears perked instantly, and before any of the boys could protest, the Shiba Inu trotted obediently back to her human. The moment she left the group, a collective "Awwww…" rose from all seven men like a sad, fluffy chorus.

"Traitor," Usopp mumbled as Callie gave him one last glance.

Nojiko chuckled, scooping the dog up. "Don't act like you didn't already give her half your sandwich earlier."

Usopp looked away, betrayed by the mayo on his cheek.

Everyone gathered around as Nojiko gave hugs and fist bumps goodbye. Sanji took her hand dramatically and kissed the back of it. "A week with you is never enough."

"Agreed," said Chopper, eyes already getting misty.

"Come back soon, yeah?" Franky said, giving her a bear hug.

Zoro just gave her a casual nod. "Drive safe."

Luffy waved both arms high in the air. "Text when you get to the beach!"

Nojiko turned to Nami last, her smile softening. Nami hugged her again, tighter this time. "Let me know when you get home safe, okay? I love you."

"Love you too, baby sis." Nojiko tugged playfully on one of her curls. "And try not to eat all those tangerines in one day, yeah?"

"No promises," Nami grinned.

Nojiko climbed into her truck, Callie settling in on the passenger seat. The engine rumbled to life, and with one final wave, she pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street.

Everyone stood in silence for a moment as the tail lights faded out.

"…A week with her is never enough," Sanji said again, quieter this time.

Everyone nodded.

Back inside the house, shoes were kicked off, bags dropped, and the group slowly collapsed into the living room like deflated balloons. Chopper flopped onto a beanbag and sighed. "You know who I miss?"

Everyone looked at him.

"Robin," he said. "It's only been a week since she left and it feels like years. I miss her reading me bedtime stories…"

Franky let out a thoughtful "hmm," rubbing his chin. "It has been a while since we heard from her."

"Well, she did say she wouldn't have service at the dig site," Nami reminded them, plopping onto the couch. "Makes sense. Still… I am kinda worried. I hope she's okay."

Luffy stretched his arms behind his head and gave her a confident grin. "Come on now, this is Robin. She's probably having the time of her life."

---

Robin was indeed not having the time of her life.

Tied to a pole alongside Trafalgar Law, she squinted against the harsh sun that beat down on the desert. The ropes cutting into her wrists were rough and itchy, and her hair clung to her face in sticky strands. Meanwhile, Law, in an attempt to maintain some semblance of sanity, was humming—badly—an off-key rendition of the old anime theme song Sora: Warrior of the Sea.

The situation was less than ideal.

How did it get to this point, you may be wondering?

Let's rewind—just a week and a half.

---

The sun had barely begun to set when their old, rattling van crept into the valley. The dig site lay nestled between jagged, towering rock formations, and the pale tan cliffs were kissed by the first golden rays of morning. Canvas tents flapped in the wind, and a few workers moved about, still busy with their tasks despite the late hour.

Robin stepped out of the van and squinted into the sun, the dry air settling over her. It wasn't as hot anymore, but the desert's heat was ever-present. She inhaled deeply—sand, spices, and sun-baked stone.

"Ah, there he is," Dr. Clover said with a wave, spotting a group of locals gathered near the central tent. A man dressed in a loose pale linen tunic waved back, approaching them with a broad smile and several others in tow.

"Dr. Clover!" the man called in a deep, melodic accent. "Welcome back, my friend."

"Abasi," Clover said, walking forward and clapping the man on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again."

The two exchanged pleasantries in a mix of languages—some English, some Arabic, and a few words in an ancient dialect Robin recognized but couldn't quite place. After a brief chat, Clover turned toward his team.

"This," he said proudly, "is Nico Robin. She's my PhD candidate. Brilliant woman, fluent in six ancient languages, and the only person I trust to catalogue our most delicate finds."

Robin offered a polite bow, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "It's an honor to be here. Thank you for having us."

Clover gestured to Law, who stood with his arms crossed, looking both indifferent and slightly uncomfortable in the heat.

"And this," Clover continued, "is Trafalgar Law. He's in med school, hoping to become a surgeon. He'll be the site's doctor while we're here."

Law, dressed entirely in black despite the scorching heat, gave a short, dry nod. "I'll try not to let anyone die."

The locals chuckled politely, unsure whether he was joking or not.

As Clover and Abasi resumed their conversation, Robin wandered toward the largest tent. Inside, tables were covered with crates of pottery shards, stone tablets, and partially uncovered relics, all carefully labeled and wrapped. One object in particular caught her attention—an obsidian fragment, its surface carved with deep, intricate grooves and symbols she didn't recognize.

Robin reached for it carefully, her fingers brushing the cool surface. The weight of it felt ancient—far older than anything they'd expected to find at this site. And the carving style? It didn't match any known artifacts from this region. In fact, it seemed to have no origin at all from here.

"Careful with that," came a voice behind her—Law, holding a canteen and giving the artifact a wary glance. "Touch one cursed object and suddenly we're all buried alive."

Robin smirked, still transfixed by the idol. "You don't actually believe in curses, do you?"

Law raised an eyebrow. "No. But I do believe in tetanus from whatever's living in those eyesockets."

Robin rolled her eyes and gently set the idol back down on its cloth. But even as she did, a strange feeling gnawed at her.

"I've never seen anything like this before," she muttered.

"Well," Clover said, stepping into the tent behind them, "that's because you haven't. Not here, anyway."

Robin turned, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Clover stepped beside her, studying the fragment with a furrowed brow. "We've found similar pieces before, but always far from here—coastal regions, ruins near old ports. Nothing this deep in the desert. It's… out of place. And that makes it all the more important."

The wind suddenly picked up outside, scattering sand across the camp and making the tent walls flap violently for a moment.

Clover glanced toward the rising dunes, his expression hardening.

"Stay on alert, both of you," he said, his voice low. "There's something about this dig... it's different."

Law, still leaning against the tent's support pole, rolled his eyes and took a swig from his canteen. "Oh great. Another 'archaeological mystery.' I'm starting to think this whole thing is overrated. But sure, don't expect me to play the 'unsung hero' when we're all buried under whatever curse you're digging up."

Robin gave him a faint, amused smile at his sarcasm, but her gaze drifted back toward the camp and the distant dunes, where an unease lingered in the air, wrapping around her like a heavy cloak.

"Whatever it is," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "we'll uncover it in time. But we have to stay alert. If anything here feels off, we need to be ready."

Clover met her gaze with a knowing look. "Exactly. That's why we proceed with caution. No one touches anything else until we've fully examined this site. It's clear there's something important here—and it's far from ordinary."

The conversation shifted toward logistics, but the gnawing feeling of foreboding refused to leave Robin. The academic intrigue of the dig was quickly overshadowed by an eerie sense that something darker was lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be unearthed.

---

The sun was just beginning its slow climb into the sky, casting long shadows across the desert as Clover, Robin, and Law trailed behind Abasi and the other locals. The group moved through the site, the vast stretch of sand and rock dotted with tents, workstations, and carefully uncovered artifacts. Abasi spoke with enthusiasm, detailing the places where significant finds had been made, his voice rich with pride as he gestured toward the ongoing excavation.

Robin, ever the scholar, absorbed every detail, her sharp eyes scanning the area with a practiced gaze. She asked thoughtful questions, intrigued by the nuances of each discovery. Clover, on the other hand, was absorbed in conversation with one of the local archaeologists, occasionally offering his own insights.

Meanwhile, Law, trailing behind and rubbing his eyes, yawned loudly, clearly struggling with the early morning fatigue. His usually sharp demeanor was slightly dulled by lack of sleep, and he found himself distracted by the sheer heat of the desert.

Robin glanced over her shoulder, noticing Law's exhausted state. She couldn't resist teasing him a little. "What's the matter, Law? Didn't get your dose of coffee this morning?"

Law shot her a tired look but didn't slow his pace. "Well, it's not like I have access to a coffee pot in the middle of nowhere, so to answer your question—yes."

Abasi, who had been walking just ahead, turned around with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused by the exchange. "You are aware that we have pour-over coffee in the kitchen tent, right?" he said, his tone laced with a hint of playful surprise.

Law blinked, clearly taken aback. He paused for a moment, then muttered under his breath, "I'm surrounded by people who don't know the true meaning of suffering." He sighed dramatically, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. "Fine, where's the tent? I'm officially conceding to my caffeine addiction for the day."

Robin smirked, watching him as he picked up his pace. "I thought you didn't need caffeine to survive, Law."

Law shot her a look of mock offense. "I don't need it, but it certainly makes life more bearable."

As they continued their tour, Abasi led them to a freshly uncovered area where several stone tablets had been partially exposed. The ancient carvings, though worn by centuries of exposure to the harsh desert elements, were still visible, their intricate details calling out to anyone who knew where to look. Clover and Robin leaned in, their eyes fixed on the markings as they examined the relics with quiet intensity. Meanwhile, Law, still grumbling about his lack of coffee, wandered off toward the kitchen tent, muttering under his breath.

Abasi gestured toward the tablets, his voice proud yet casual. "And over here is where we uncovered these stone tablets—just outside of the main ruins site. It was actually the day before you all arrived."

Abasi smiled as he surveyed the group, clearly proud of the way the team had settled into the site. "Clearly, you all have realized we are indeed in a desert climate," he said, his voice steady. "It may be hard for you, especially since you just arrived, but our work schedule revolves around the sun. We try to work early in the morning before it gets too hot, and then again later at night when the desert cools down a bit." He paused, looking at Robin, Clover, and Law. "It's the only way to keep from being overwhelmed by the extremes of the desert."

Robin, who had been quietly taking in the surroundings, turned to Abasi with a thoughtful expression. "That's smart. I can see how the desert demands a certain respect if we're going to be here for any extended period of time."

Abasi's eyes gleamed with appreciation at Robin's words. "Exactly. It's a tough place to work, but if you understand the land, it gives you something back. We've been doing this for years, and we've learned when to push and when to step back."

Law, who had returned from the kitchen tent with a cup of coffee in hand, raised an eyebrow as he sipped it. "Sounds like a bit of a survivalist approach. I mean, I'm a surgeon though. I'm used to late nights and early mornings."

Abasi chuckled, his tone warm and knowing. "Yes, you have a good advantage over the rest of the team in that aspect, Dr. Trafalgar." He then gestured toward the expanse of desert beyond the site. "In the end, it's all worth it. There are secrets buried out here waiting to be uncovered. And the work we're doing—" he glanced at the tablets again, "it's more than just history. It's part of something bigger."

Clover's brow furrowed slightly as he surveyed the area around the uncovered tablets. He wiped his brow and then glanced over at Abasi. "Has anyone gone inside the main ruins yet?" he asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Abasi shook his head, his expression serious. "Not yet," he said, his voice steady. "We're still trying to get the stability of the structure before sending anyone in. The last thing we want is for anyone to get caught inside if something were to collapse. But once it's cleared and we're certain it's safe, I'm more than happy to give you and your team the honors of mapping it out first."

Robin's interest piqued at the mention of mapping out the ruins. She had always been drawn to the unknown, and this place, buried in the heart of the desert, felt like it was brimming with secrets waiting to be unlocked. She exchanged a glance with Clover, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"That's an honor," she said quietly, her voice tinged with excitement. "If we're the first ones inside, I can only imagine what we'll find. I've always wanted to explore a site like this from the very beginning."

Abasi nodded, clearly pleased with her enthusiasm. "The honor is yours, Dr. Nico. This site is special, and we've been working to ensure that the moment it's safe, it'll be open to your expertise." He looked toward the entrance of the ruins, his eyes narrowing slightly as though something was on his mind.

Clover stepped forward, running a hand through his hair, his expression thoughtful. "I appreciate that. I'll make sure we're ready when the time comes."

Robin felt a thrill run through her. This was what she had trained for—what she had spent years studying for. But there was also an undercurrent of unease that she couldn't shake. The desert, the ruins, Abasi's cryptic words—it all felt like something far more than an academic discovery.

---

The cool desert night was a stark contrast to the sweltering heat of the day, the air crisp and fresh as the stars stretched endlessly across the sky. The camp had settled into quiet, with only the occasional rustle of the wind through the canvas tents. Most of the crew had long since gone to bed, but Law was still awake, walking out of the outhouse and stretching, trying to shake off the remnants of a long day.

As he made his way back to the main camp, he noticed that Robin's tent light was still on, casting a faint glow into the night. He tilted his head, a small frown forming on his face. It wasn't unusual for Robin to be deep in her thoughts, but everyone else had already closed up for the night. With a sigh, he walked over to the tent and ducked inside without knocking.

"You know," Law said, his voice low, "everyone else already closed up shop. If you want to get up early tomorrow and help, you should probably sleep."

Robin looked up from her papers, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Thanks for the advice," she replied, not missing a beat.

Law stepped further inside, noticing the calculations scattered across the desk in front of her, the air inside the tent thick with the scent of ink and parchment. "What are you working on?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Robin's smirk faltered as she leaned back, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm calculating the stability of those main ruins," she said, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. "And based on what I got, they should be fine to enter."

Law raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that supposed to be a good thing? Why do you look so mad? You get to play Indiana Jones tomorrow."

Robin chuckled lightly, but there was no humor in it. "I prefer Lara Croft," she said, the words slipping from her lips almost automatically. "But that's besides the point. My point is, it only took me a few hours to calculate this value. So, why has no one entered yet?"

Law thought for a moment, leaning against the tent's central pole. "You heard Abasi, right? He wanted us to be the ones to go in first."

Robin's eyes narrowed slightly. "So that's what you got from that conversation too?"

Law nodded, his tone casual. "Look, like I said, this whole weird cryptic archaeological site mystery mumbo jumbo is an overrated trope. Very cliché. But, there's a reason a cliché is a cliché. It happens… a lot."

Robin raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "Awe, are you scared?"

Law shot her a deadpan look. "No, I'm just cautious."

Robin rose from her seat, grabbing her work bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Law's eyes followed her movements, his expression skeptical. "Where are you going?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Robin gave him a quick glance over her shoulder as she zipped her bag closed. "I'm going to check if my calculations are right."

Law blinked, taken aback. "And what about it? I'm just supposed to sit here and, oh, if I hear the sound of an ancient civilization crashing down, I'll know you were off?"

Robin didn't hesitate to smirk at him. "I mean, yes, that's one way to think about it."

Law sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you said you weren't going to act like Luffy."

"I never said I wasn't," Robin replied with a sly grin. "I just said that I'm a lot more tame than he is."

Law rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You should just wait for tomorrow, when Dr. Clover and everyone else is awake. It's safer."

Robin's eyes met his, unyielding. "Well, are you coming or not?" she asked, the faintest hint of challenge in her voice. "I will definitely be in need of a doctor if my calculations are wrong."

There was a moment of silence, the weight of the decision hanging between them. Law hesitated, then groaned, standing up straighter. "Stay here. I'll be right back with my stuff."

Robin watched him as he walked out of the tent, shaking her head but feeling a small sense of satisfaction. Law, for all his grumbling, was always there when it mattered.

---

Robin and Law walked in silence under the star-strewn sky, the quiet desert night surrounding them like a blanket. The lanterns they carried flickered in the stillness, casting long, wavering shadows that danced across the rocky terrain as they made their way toward the main ruins. Law kept his eyes forward, his lantern held steady in his hand, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Robin walked beside him, her own lantern swinging gently at her side, the soft glow illuminating her calm expression.

When they finally reached the entrance to the main ruins, the silence between them stretched, and Law turned his head toward her, raising an eyebrow. "So, how do you plan on testing this calculation of yours?" he asked, his voice low but curious.

Robin paused for a moment, considering his question. The entrance to the ruins loomed before them, its stone archway weathered by centuries of desert wind and sun. Ancient carvings adorned the edges of the doorway, faded but still visible in the lantern light. She felt the weight of the history in the air.

"Simple," Robin replied, her voice steady. "We step inside."

Law raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with her response. "And just trust your calculations?" he asked skeptically.

Robin turned to face him, her eyes locking with his. "Not entirely," she admitted. "I trust the numbers. But this isn't just about math, is it? It's about intuition, too. You can't calculate a value for instinct."

Law didn't respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he looked at the entrance again. The lanterns' light barely cut through the darkness inside the ruins, leaving most of it cloaked in shadow. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his stance still cautious.

"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, you know," he muttered, glancing at the ancient structure again.

Robin's lips curved into a half-smile. "I didn't say it would be easy, just necessary. And we need to know what's inside."

Robin chuckled softly at his reluctance but stepped forward, lantern raised high as she passed beneath the archway. She felt the cool air shift as they crossed into the ruins, the temperature dropping sharply, the silence pressing in like a living thing.

The darkness inside the ruins was nearly absolute, broken only by the wavering glow of their lanterns. The stone swallowed sound, giving Robin's footsteps a muffled, reverent hush. Strange symbols lined the walls—more intricate than anything they had seen on the exterior. The carvings were delicate, detailed with a precision that spoke of a people who held both artistry and purpose in equal measure. The air was thick with the scent of earth, dust, and centuries past, the weight of time pressing in around them.

Robin moved toward one of the walls without hesitation, lifting her lantern. Its light spilled across the stone, revealing an array of etched reliefs—layers of figures woven into what appeared to be a narrative. Her eyes lit up behind the glow.

"This is fascinating," she breathed, brushing a hand along the edge of a carving. "The style... it's nothing like what we've seen in the outer dig. Look here—see how the figures are stylized with elongated limbs and sunburst motifs around their heads? It's reminiscent of the Sutekh Period iconography we found in the northern deserts, but there's a refinement here. Almost ceremonial. Whoever made this, they weren't just artists. They were chroniclers."

Law was still hovering at the entrance, his silhouette barely visible against the night sky behind him. He squinted toward her. "Great. Looks like your calculations were right. We didn't get crushed. Let's head back now."

Robin glanced over her shoulder and smirked. "Oh, come on. I'm not planning to map the entire ruin tonight. Just a little reconnaissance. Now come on, step inside. I promise you—you're going to be safe."

Law groaned under his breath, muttering something unflattering about caffeine withdrawal and poor life choices, but stepped forward anyway, his boots crunching softly on the dusty floor. He came to stand beside her, casting his lantern's light on the carvings as well.

"Stay close," Robin murmured, her tone calm, but laced with that unmistakable spark of excitement that always found her in places like this.

---

They moved deeper into the passage, the light from their lanterns painting shifting shadows on the walls—ghostly echoes of the past. Robin felt it again, that eerie thrill, as if the stones were whispering to her, trying to retell a story lost to time.

"So," Law said, his voice low but sharp in the silence, "what exactly are we hoping to find? Secret chamber? Hidden treasure? Ghosts, maybe?"

Robin smiled, though she didn't take her eyes off the carvings. "No treasure. Just answers. We all keep asking the same question—why here? Why now? What happened to this place, to the people who lived here?" She reached out and let her fingers rest lightly on a worn pillar. "Whatever it was, it wasn't ordinary. Something happened that forced them to leave—or worse."

Law didn't respond right away. His eyes flicked toward the shadows that stretched along the floor, then to the narrow beams of light cutting across ancient walls. The further they went, the more wrong this all felt. The quiet here wasn't peaceful—it was holding its breath.

He muttered, "I should've stayed at the hospital. I'd rather perform back-to-back neurosurgeries than be standing in the middle of some forgotten crypt in the middle of the night. We didn't even tell anyone we were coming."

Robin glanced at him sideways. "You could've said no."

"I did say no," Law hissed. "And then you guilt-tripped me by reminding me you'd need a doctor if the ruins collapsed. Which, for the record, still might happen."

Robin chuckled, stepping forward, her lantern raised as they approached a branching hallway. "Then you should be glad you're here. After all… who else would be able to say they walked into a sealed ruin, untouched for who knows how many centuries, and lived to talk about it?"

Law gave a short, dry laugh. "Yeah. If we live to talk about it."

Robin walked further into the corridor, her lantern casting soft golden light over more of the carvings. The mural stretched across the entire wall now—its scenes intricately etched, as though the artists had meant to immortalize a story rather than just record it.

"Say, Law," she said, her voice almost playful, "you're getting an associate's in history right now, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Technically, yes. Why?"

She grinned and gestured at the wall. "Then indulge me. What do you make of this?"

Law sighed, stepping closer and squinting at the wall. "Well... if we're going full nerd, fine." He raised his lantern higher, casting better light across the series of images.

The carvings depicted a massive conflict—warriors with banners clashing in chaotic formations, towering ships sinking beneath waves, and at the center, a strange, serpentine figure coiled around a broken sun. In the final scene, the ocean surged across the land, swallowing what appeared to be cities and islands alike, leaving behind nothing but waves and scattered ruins.

Law frowned. "It looks like a depiction of the Great Flood War. You know, that old legend? The one about a kingdom that tried to control the sea and was wiped out when the ocean... retaliated. Supposedly, a war broke out between kingdoms over some forbidden knowledge, and by the end of it, the ocean had swallowed half the world."

Robin tilted her head. "That's a story from the Northern Archives, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Law nodded, crossing his arms. "It's usually tied to ruins found near the Frozen Peninsula, like thousands of miles from here. That's what makes this weird."

He stepped back a little and gestured to the mural. "If this really is telling that story, then why is it here, in the middle of the desert? This isn't even the same continent. It doesn't make any sense."

Robin's smile had faded slightly. She stared at the final carving, where stylized waves engulfed once-thriving lands.

"Unless," she murmured, "the story wasn't limited to just one place."

Law raised an eyebrow. "You're saying it was global? That the flood actually happened?"

She looked over at him, eyes bright and speculative. "Not saying anything yet. But I'd like to see what's deeper inside. If there's more of this… there could be answers. Connections to that lost century the scholars talk about."

Law huffed and muttered, "Fantastic. A worldwide flood conspiracy theory. Just what I signed up for."

But he didn't sound as dismissive as before. There was something in the way he kept glancing back at the mural, brows furrowed in reluctant fascination.

Robin took a slow step forward toward the next chamber. "Come on. Let's see what else they left behind."

Robin stepped into the next chamber, lantern held high—when the stone beneath her gave a sudden, grinding groan.

"Robin!" Law's shout echoed through the corridor as the floor crumbled beneath her, and she disappeared into the darkness with a sharp gasp and the crash of falling stone.

Law rushed forward, stopping just short of the jagged edge. Dust and debris swirled in the air as he held his lantern out, heart hammering. "Robin! Robin, can you hear me?"

A few seconds passed, then: "I'm fine!" came her voice, echoing up from below. "The fall wasn't that far."

Law exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. "Damn it," he muttered. "Hold on, I'm going back to the tents. I'll get you some help. Are you injured?"

"No," Robin replied, almost too casually. "You should come down here."

Law blinked. "What? Fuck no. Who's supposed to get you out if I'm down there with you?"

Something hissed through the air and landed at his feet. A coiled rope.

Robin's voice floated up again, slightly amused. "Tie that to the column over there and lower yourself down. We can use it to get back up later."

He stared at the rope like it had personally insulted him. "Unbelievable," he grumbled, but picked it up all the same. Muttering under his breath, he looped the rope around the nearest stable-looking column and gave it a few solid tugs before starting his descent.

The pit was deeper than he expected—maybe ten, twelve feet—but he landed cleanly, boots crunching against the dusty floor. He turned, lifting his lantern—and immediately saw her.

Robin was sitting against the base of a collapsed wall, one pant leg torn and stained with blood.

"Stop," Law said sharply, his voice full of frustrated concern. "You did get injured."

She looked down at her leg with the mild interest of someone observing a chipped nail. "It's just a scratch. I'm not worried."

"Yeah," Law shot back, already digging into the side pouch of his satchel, "a scratch that can get infected and lead to decay, fever, or necrosis. You don't know what got released in the air when the ground gave out. At least let me sterilize and wrap it."

Robin rolled her eyes but extended her leg with a small sigh. "Fine, Doctor. Knock yourself out."

As Law knelt beside her and started cleaning the wound with practiced hands, she watched him with a faint smile.

"You know," she said, "you really are a good medic. Have I mentioned that?"

Law didn't look up. "You can save the compliments until I've confirmed you're not going to lose your leg."

She chuckled quietly. "I'm serious. Thanks for coming down here."

He paused just a beat before replying, soft but pointed. "You're lucky I did."

She looked at him, something unreadable passing through her gaze. Then, without missing a beat, she glanced past him, toward the chamber's shadowed depths.

"Now that you're here," she said, "you have to see what's further in."

Law groaned. "Of course I do."

---

Robin moved along the chamber wall, her lantern casting golden light across the ancient stone. The murals here were rougher, more primal—etched deeper into the surface, with sharper lines and haunting, elongated figures that seemed to twist in the flicker of the flame.

"This is interesting," she murmured, eyes narrowing in concentration. "These murals are far older than the ones in the upper floor, and a completely different style. I've only seen murals like these once before."

She trailed her fingers along the carvings, pausing at a sequence of swirling symbols that seemed to hum with age.

"And these writings… they appear to be Poneglyphic."

"Poneglyphic?" Law echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Robin nodded. "It's an ancient writing system. There have only been a few documented instances of it. Most people can't read it."

She gave him a sideways glance, her voice carrying a trace of pride. "But it's a good thing for us—I can."

"Oh yes," Law muttered dryly, "we're very lucky indeed."

Robin stepped in closer to the wall, brushing the dust from the symbols. Her voice dropped into something reverent, almost like a whisper to the stone itself. "Beware... the call... of Imu."

Law tilted his head. "Imu?"

Robin nodded, then glanced at him. "Why? Is that familiar to you?"

Law's expression darkened slightly as he crossed his arms, thinking. "I read a book for a final project last semester—something on monarchal conspiracies and lost dynasties. It mentioned a Nerona Imu. Just a footnote, really. Said they ruled a powerful kingdom, one that vanished during the Void Century."

He smirked faintly. "I got an A-plus, in case you were wondering."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. But if this really is referring to that Imu, then we're standing in something far more significant than just another ruin."

Law shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the shadows that stretched beyond the mural. "That's only possible if the timelines line up. How old do you think these ruins are?"

"About five hundred years," Robin replied, running her fingers along the etched symbols.

Law shook his head. "Then it doesn't add up. Nerona Imu disappeared around eight hundred years ago—back during the Void Century. Maybe it's a descendant? Or a namesake."

Robin didn't respond. Instead, she crouched down and knocked her knuckles against the floor.

Law frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Do you hear that?" she said, leaning in closer.

"Hear what?"

She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with excitement. "It's hollow. There's another floor beneath us."

Before Law could respond, she handed him her lantern. "Hold this."

He took it reluctantly as she reached into her bag and pulled out a collapsible steel yardstick. With practiced precision, she slid it into a narrow crevice between the stones and began prying one of the slabs loose. Law set both lanterns down and joined her, pushing the stone aside with a grunt.

He stared down into the darkness now exposed beneath them. "Okay… so how exactly are we supposed to get down there?"

Robin wordlessly pulled out another coil of rope and tossed it into his hands.

Law raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? How many ropes do you carry?"

She smirked. "I'm an archaeologist. Being over-prepared is part of the job."

He chuckled, tying the rope securely around a stone column. "Okay, maybe you are like the real life Lara Croft. Triangle tits aside."

Law lowered himself carefully through the opening. Once his feet hit the floor below, he looked up and braced himself as Robin climbed down after him. She let go near the bottom and he caught her easily, helping her down the last stretch before setting her on her feet.

Robin unclipped the pair of lanterns from the carabiner on her belt and handed him one.

As they looked around the new chamber, Robin's voice was hushed with awe. "What are the odds we find murals down here that date back eight hundred years?"

Law glanced at the shadowy walls around them and gave a dry smirk. "I'd say the odds are pretty damn high."

---

They walked carefully, their footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls, shadows stretching long and strange ahead of them. Without warning, Robin's lantern flickered once—then died with a quiet pop of extinguished light.

"Tch." She smacked it a few times, trying to coax the light back. Nothing. "Great."

Law paused, frowning. "Smell that?"

Robin tilted her head, inhaling cautiously. "...Petroleum."

Just then, her boot splashed into something slick. She crouched down, sniffing near the surface. "Definitely petroleum. There must've been a leak from an old storage system… or maybe this chamber was meant to be lit manually."

"Here," Law said, handing her his lantern. She accepted it and moved to the wall, scanning it carefully until her eyes landed on a weathered, iron torch sconce embedded just above shoulder height.

"Perfect," she muttered.

She turned to Law. "Do you have a light?"

He shook his head. "I don't smoke cigarettes."

Robin sighed. "Neither do I." She stared at the torch for a moment longer, then noticed something just above it—a narrow ledge carved into the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, fingers brushing along the stone, trying to feel for anything useful.

Law stepped beside her. He was just tall enough to reach the ledge without straining. He reached up, groped around, then pulled something down—a rusted, ancient hunk of flint. It clattered in his hand like a forgotten relic.

They exchanged a look. No words. Just understanding.

Moments later, Robin dipped the iron torch into the puddle of oil, letting the fabric-wrapped head soak. Law steadied her extendable steel yardstick, angling it out like a striker while he scraped the flint across its edge. Sparks flew—one after another, flashing gold in the dark.

Finally, the oil caught. A sudden whoosh of flame flared up, and the torch came alive with a warm, flickering light.

Robin grinned, raising the torch high. "Now we're in business."

Law blinked in the firelight, lips twitching into a smirk. "You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

She looked at him, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Wouldn't be any fun if I did."

---

Robin kept walking, the torchlight casting eerie shadows on the smooth, unadorned walls. Her brow furrowed as she surveyed the area. "It's strange," she muttered. "There are no murals on this floor. Only some poneglyphic writings, but... they're all gibberish."

She continued forward, her eyes scanning for anything that could offer more insight into the ruins' past. But before she could take another step, Law's hand shot out, stopping her.

"What is it?" Robin asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Law was staring down at the floor, eyes narrowing. "Look at your feet."

Confused, Robin glanced down. Her torchlight flickered across the stone floor, revealing something she hadn't noticed before: an ungodly amount of scorpions, their bodies slick and dark, scuttling along the surface. Some of them were already trying to climb up her pant leg.

Robin immediately jerked her leg, shaking off the insects. "Why are they crawling on me but not you?"

Law stood a few paces away, calm as ever, though his lips quirked into a sarcastic smile. "Guess I'm more intimidating."

Robin shot him a really? look, raising an eyebrow.

Law shrugged, unbothered. "I doused my clothes in peppermint before we flew here. Read somewhere that it deters scorpions. I figured, y'know, being in a desert for the next month, it might be a good idea."

Robin blinked at him, surprised. "Peppermint?"

"Yeah." He wiped the last few scorpions off her leg with a sigh. "It's harmless, but effective. Now... come on. I'll carry you."

Robin tilted her head, blinking in disbelief. "What?"

"I'm not letting you get swarmed. Come on, hop on," Law said, crouching down in front of her.

For a moment, Robin stood there, unsure, but then she sighed in resignation and knelt down, letting Law help her onto his back. He grunted slightly as he straightened, carrying her effortlessly.

---

Robin and Law walked deeper into the dimly lit ruins, Law still carrying her on his back while holding the torch in front of them. Robin, with the remaining lantern, swept it across the dark hallway, but her eyes never wavered from the path ahead.

"I'm still not seeing anything. Should we turn back?" Law asked, his voice tinged with frustration as his arms grew tired of holding the torch.

Robin shook her head, her face still set with determination. "Not yet. I have a feeling we'll find something soon. We just need to keep going."

Law groaned, his steps slowing slightly as he glanced back toward the distant exit. "How long have we been down here anyway? It might be morning by now. Everyone's going to wonder where we went."

Robin shrugged slightly, still focused ahead. "Relax. My watch says we've only been in here for two hours. I told you, we're just doing some minor recon."

"Yeah, well," Law sighed, "if it took us two hours to get here, it'll take us at least two hours to get back."

Robin cast a sidelong glance at him, her voice still calm. "I said to relax. We're fine."

But Law wasn't having it. "No, I'm turning back. I want to at least get a little sleep before we have to be back down here."

Robin's protests went unheard as Law turned on his heel, making for the exit. "Wait! Stop!" she called out urgently, though her voice was drowned by the sound of his footsteps.

"Save it, Robin. We'll be back here in a few hours," Law called over his shoulder, dismissing her with a wave.

"No!" Robin snapped, her eyes catching something faint in the distance. "I see something!" Without waiting for him to respond, she jumped off his back and took off down the hall.

"Robin!" Law called, spinning around. His eyes darted between her silhouette, rapidly disappearing into the darkness, and the exit he had been heading toward. He cursed under his breath. "God fucking dammit! Robin!" He ran after her, pushing his legs faster.

It didn't take long for him to catch up. He found her standing stock still, her eyes wide in awe, as if she had discovered something monumental.

"Robin, what the fuck? You can't just run off like that!" Law snapped, out of breath.

"Look," she said simply, pointing.

He followed her gaze, bringing the torch higher. The flickering light revealed what Robin had been staring at. In the distance, there was a silhouette, looming out of the shadows. At first, it looked like just a statue, but as the light grew brighter, its imposing features began to take form.

"What is that?" Law asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and curiosity. The figure was massive, towering over them. It appeared to be a tall, thin individual, almost skeletal, with a crown-like structure atop its head. Its eyes were made from two enormous rubies that glinted ominously in the torchlight.

Law's eyes scanned the floor beneath them, and his breath caught in his throat. The stone beneath their feet was etched with grooves, which were now filled with a dark, viscous substance. Oil.

"Stand back," he ordered, his tone now sharp with urgency. Without another word, he crouched down, bringing the torch close to the ground. The moment the flame neared the oil, the room seemed to come alive.

One by one, bowls set into the stone began to flicker with light, their contents igniting. Torches along the walls flared to life as well, casting long shadows that danced and stretched across the chamber. As the room gradually lit up, the true size of the statue became apparent. It was large, almost unnaturally tall, and black as night. The figure's skeletal frame seemed both delicate and terrifying, its elongated limbs stretched toward the ceiling. The crown upon its head was thin and tall, giving it an almost regal, yet ominous, look. The rubies for eyes glowed a deep red, reflecting the newly illuminated chamber.

Robin's eyes shone with awe, but there was something else in her gaze—a flicker of something deeper, something she couldn't quite place. She approached the statue cautiously, the flickering light of the torches casting a soft glow on her face. "This... this isn't just a statue," she murmured, almost to herself. "It's a monument. But to whom? And why is it here?"

Law remained silent for a moment, the realization of what they had uncovered starting to settle in. The chamber was quiet, save for the crackling of the oil flames. The eerie stillness hung in the air, as though the statue itself was waiting for them to make the next move.

Robin carefully scanned the surrounding area, her gaze shifting from the towering statue to the rest of the room. The lantern in her hand flickered slightly as she glanced back at Law. "Do you think this is connected to the ruins on the upper levels? The murals? The poneglyphic writing?"

Law's eyes were still fixed on the massive statue, his mind working to piece it all together. "It has to be, right? There's no way it isn't. My guess is they kept building on top of this chamber in an attempt to hide it. I mean, why else would they keep building over the same ruin instead of expanding outwards?" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsettled by the implications.

Robin nodded thoughtfully, her gaze returning to the room, weighing his theory. "You take the left, I'll take the right. Just holler if you find anything that looks important."

Robin's heart raced as she carefully approached the large golden stone embedded into the wall. The gleaming surface was etched with intricate poneglyphic writing, its deep carvings glowing faintly in the dim light. She quickly opened her bag, pulling out her paper and a crayon, her hands trembling slightly in excitement as she prepared to make a rubbing. The discovery of such a piece, this close to the massive statue, could hold vital information, and she knew this was something that couldn't be missed.

"Hey, Robin!" Law's voice called from across the room, snapping her out of her concentration. "There's a gold block over here. It's covered in that poneglyphic writing!"

Robin didn't even look up, too focused on her task. "There's one over here too! Give me a second." She pressed her crayon carefully against the stone, rolling it along the surface to capture the full details of the ancient writing. Every stroke felt like a revelation, and she could feel the weight of the centuries pressing down on her as she worked.

Robin's eyes scanned the rubbing she had just made, her lips moving silently as she pieced together the translation. The text spoke of a great flood, an ancient war, and a figure whose name echoed with an eerie finality: Imu.

She read aloud under her breath, her voice barely a whisper, as though the words themselves were too dangerous to speak too loudly.

"The Wrath of Imu, the first time the world was swallowed by the sea. And we, the last remnants, must pray for mercy. Nika has fallen."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the final line, trying to make sense of what she had just uncovered.

"First?" Robin murmured aloud, her brow furrowing in confusion. "How many times did this happen? And why are they placing the blame on Imu?"

Robin leaned back, taking a deep breath as she processed the implications of the text. The mention of the "first" flood suggested that this catastrophe had occurred more than once—an unsettling thought, to say the least. But what unsettled her even more was the clear condemnation of Imu—the same name that had appeared in the earlier murals, a name entwined with legends of unfathomable power and mystery. Why would they place the blame on Imu for such devastating events? And who was this Nika?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Law's voice broke through the silence.

"Robin! Come here, I think I found something else!"

"Coming!" Robin called back, quickly rising to her feet and crossing over to Law. He pointed to a mural on the far side of the chamber, his expression serious.

"Look."

The mural depicted a giant, gangly black figure—remarkably similar to the statue that stood at the center of the room—locked in combat with a warrior clad entirely in white. The scene was intense, the figures in motion, their silhouettes sharp and exaggerated in a way that made the battle seem both mythic and otherworldly.

Law's voice was a whisper, heavy with curiosity. "How old would you say this mural is?"

Robin stood silent for a moment, her eyes tracing the details, the striking contrast between the black and white figures, and the dynamic energy captured in the artwork. She finally spoke, her tone thoughtful.

"...800 years old," she replied, still entranced by the mural's enigmatic imagery.

They exchanged a look, both struck by the connection between the murals, the statue, and the writings

Law gave a low laugh of disbelief, shaking his head as he stared at the mural. "The Void Century. This is from the Void Century!"

Robin nodded eagerly, her excitement palpable as she took a step back to process his words. "I'm going to go make a rubbing of that poneglyph you found," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination. She quickly reached into her bag, pulling out a piece of paper and a crayon, her hands moving with practiced ease. The air in the chamber felt heavier now, as if the very walls were watching them.

Law, still absorbing the magnitude of what they were uncovering, called after her, "Don't take too long, Robin. We don't know what else is in here."

Robin flashed him a confident smile. "I'll be fine. Just don't get too caught up in that mural. We still need to document everything."

---

Law crouched beside her, glancing over her shoulder. "What does it say?"

Robin didn't look up as she read aloud, her voice steady. "The one over there said: 'The Wrath of Imu, the first time the world was swallowed by the sea. And we, the last remnants, must pray for mercy. Nika has fallen.' This one's nearly identical. It reads: 'History is doomed to repeat. The second time the world was swallowed by the sea. Joyboy has defated the demon of darkness. Yet, they still loom. No amount of prayer will save us from Imu's anger.'"

Law let out a low breath. "Well… that confirms it. They're definitely talking about Nerona Imu."

Robin turned her gaze back to the statue, her eyes narrowing. "Do you think that's why it was resurrected? To honor Imu?"

"Maybe," Law muttered, unsure. "I don't know. Could be a warning just as much as it is a tribute."

Robin stepped closer to the base of the statue, where something had caught her eye. Carved into the stone was another line of text—different from the rest. "Look," she pointed. "There's more writing here."

The two of them knelt in front of it, inspecting the inscription.

"This isn't Poneglyphic," Robin said, frowning. "It doesn't translate into anything I recognize… It's a much older language. I've seen fragments of it before, but never this complete."

"Can you read it?" Law asked.

"I can try," she said, shrugging lightly. She took a breath and cleared her throat.

"Nayuum k'serat Imu."

As the final word echoed through the chamber, a sudden stillness fell around them. The air grew thick, heavy—as if the entire ruin had taken a breath and was holding it. A soft, metallic hum began to resonate from deep within the statue, growing louder, vibrating through the floor.

Law's voice dropped to a whisper. "...Did it just respond?"

Robin rose slowly, eyes wide. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. "I think it did." Her voice was hushed. "We might've just triggered something we weren't meant to."

Before they could say more, a deep rumble rolled through the chamber. The ruby eyes of the statue flared to life, glowing with an eerie crimson light. The stone beneath their feet began to tremble. Dust and pebbles shook loose from the ceiling. All around them, the ruins shuddered—as if awakening from a centuries-long slumber.

The rumbling deepened, sending cracks skittering along the ancient walls. Chunks of stone rattled down from the ceiling.

"Why the fuck would you say it out loud?!" Law snapped, eyes wide with panic. "Have you ever seen an Indiana Jones movie?! We're fucked!"

Robin whipped around to glare at him, her voice rising above the chaos. "You told me to read it! You should've specified read it in your head!"

He didn't waste time arguing further—he grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, snatching up the lantern in the same motion. "Come on! We need to run! This place is gonna collapse!"

The statue groaned, the sound unnatural, like metal grinding from deep within the stone. The glowing ruby eyes flared brighter, casting blood-red light across the chamber. Behind them, part of the mural cracked and crashed to the floor in a cloud of dust.

They sprinted back the way they came, boots thudding against the ancient floor as the entire ruin shook around them. Robin clutched the rubbings tight to her chest, not daring to let go of them despite the chaos. Law kept the lantern high, casting flickering light just far enough to guide them forward through the crumbling darkness.

Behind them, something massive stirred—stone scraping, shifting. And for a moment, it sounded like breathing.

---

They sprinted through the crumbling hallway, the walls groaning as stone fractured and dust rained from the ceiling. The first rope came into view just as a section of the floor collapsed behind them.

Law reached it first, scrambling up with practiced speed. Robin followed—but froze halfway, eyes darting to her leg. Scorpions. A swarm of them clung to her calf, writhing and stinging. She let out a sharp breath and kicked wildly, trying to dislodge them.

Law looked back, cursing under his breath. He leaned down, gripping the rope and hauling it—and Robin—up with brute strength. As soon as she crested the ledge, he smacked the scorpions away, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to her feet.

"No time!" he shouted, yanking her toward the second rope.

They ran, leapt, and climbed. This ascent was faster—smoother. Adrenaline made them weightless.

"We're almost there!" Robin called, breathless, spotting the entryway just ahead.

But with a deafening crack, the ceiling gave out in front of them. Tons of stone crashed down, sealing the exit they came through.

They skidded to a stop—then spun around and bolted in the opposite direction.

The floor began to tilt, groaning as the entire ruin shifted. Sand poured in from ruptured walls. Ancient stones tumbled like dice.

"There!" Law shouted, pointing to a new crack in the wall—sunlight bleeding through it like a lifeline. A side of the ruin had burst open, revealing a narrow exit to the outside.

They sprinted for it.

Just before the crack sealed shut again, they dove. Sand exploded around them as they hit the ground outside, rolling and gasping in the warm light of dawn.

They lay still for a moment, chests heaving, the last echoes of the ruin vanishing beneath the shifting dunes.

Robin let out a shaky laugh between gasps. "We… made it."

"Yeah… barely," Law muttered, brushing sand from his coat. "That was way too close."

Then—click.

A chilling chorus of metallic snaps echoed through the quiet.

They froze.

Slowly, they turned.

A line of figures stood waiting, dressed in long black cloaks. Their faces were hidden behind smooth, featureless masks—masks shaped like the statue's face, cold and inhuman. Crimson lenses glinted where eyes should have been.

Behind them stood Abasi, Dr. Clover, and the rest of the locals. All of them were tied up, gagged, and held at gunpoint.

Robin's heart sank. "No…"

The lead figure stepped forward. Their voice was muffled by the mask, but calm. Precise.

"Nico Robin. Trafalgar Law. You'll be coming with us."

---

And that brings us to how Robin's fun summer studying abroad in the desert took a hard left turn into something straight out of a Spielberg movie.

She smacked her lips, painfully dry from hours under the scorching desert sun. Tied to a pole, sand in places sand definitely shouldn't be, and currently being held hostage alongside Trafalgar Law—this was not in the contract she signed.

To make matters worse, Law had been humming the theme song to Sora: Warrior of the Sea for the past ten minutes. On a loop.

Robin finally snapped.

"Will you please stop humming the Sora theme?!" she hissed. "It might be keeping you sane, but it's doing the exact opposite for me."

Law glanced over, slightly offended. "Wait—you know about Sora?"

Robin let out a long, suffering sigh. "Yes. One of my roommates, Sanji, is obsessed with it. Any time he gets to pick movie night, guess what's on the screen? That ridiculous show. He loves it. I do not."

Law blinked. "Huh. That's a shame. It's a classic."

Robin closed her eyes and muttered, "If we die out here, it'll be to the soundtrack of my least favorite anime."

Robin leaned her head back against the pole, eyes squinting up at the blinding sky. "You know," she murmured, voice softer now, "it was my roommate Nami's birthday a week ago."

Law glanced over at her, the hum finally fading from his lips.

"I was hoping I could convince Dr. Clover to let me take the van out somewhere with cell service," Robin said, her voice low and wistful. "Just long enough to send her a message. Wish her a happy birthday. Maybe even squeeze in a video call if the signal held up."

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she stared out into the endless stretch of sand. "She loves the attention on her birthday. Pretends she doesn't, of course, but she plans the entire week like it's a national holiday. I've been wondering what she's doing all week. It's been on my mind since I left."

Law let out a quiet chuckle. "Sounds like someone I know. My dad made a full event out of his last birthday. Rented a mechanical bull. Indoors."

Robin arched an eyebrow. "That's... bold."

"It caught fire," Law added dryly.

Robin let out a surprised bark of laughter, hoarse and sandpaper-rough. "Your dad sounds like a total klutz."

Law smirked. "He is. Has this awful smoking habit, too. He always swears he's careful, but every time he lights up, somehow something ends up on fire. Usually his sleeve."

Robin shook her head with an amused smile. "And he still smokes?"

"Every day," Law said. "Man's made of ashes and denial."

Robin leaned her head back against the sun-warmed pole, giving Law a sidelong glance. "You know, I've been meaning to ask… What's with the tattoos?"

Law raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his hands.

She nodded at them. "You're trying to be a surgeon, right? So why tattoo 'DEATH' on your knuckles? If I saw my surgeon had that inked on himself, I'd walk out of the operating room."

Law groaned and let his head thunk back against the pole. "I got them when I was sixteen. I thought it would be ironic."

Robin blinked. "You thought death would be ironic?"

"I was going through a phase," he muttered.

She snorted. "Clearly."

Law gave her a flat look. "It made sense at the time. I'd just decided I wanted to save people, you know? Thought it'd be funny. Like—Haha, look, this guy's whole deal is death, but surprise, he's actually here to stop you from dying."

Robin tilted her head. "That's... very teenage logic."

"Exactly," he sighed. "And by the time I realized it wasn't as clever as I thought, I was already elbows-deep in med school and too broke to afford laser removal."

Robin chuckled. "Well, at least you're committed. Even if it's to a bad idea."

"Story of my life."

There was a stretch of silence between them, broken only by the distant whistle of wind over the dunes.

Robin's voice was quiet when she spoke again. "Say, Law… what would you be doing if you hadn't volunteered as the doctor for this trip?"

Law didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where it was nothing but endless sand.

"I don't know," he said at last. "Probably working my ass off at the hospital. Maybe swing by my dad's place and say hi. Definitely have an unfortunate run-in with my snobby-ass uncle, Doffy. And…" He paused, his voice quieter now. "I'd probably be at the cemetery."

Robin looked over at him, her expression softening.

"Tomorrow's the fourteenth anniversary of my birth family's death."

Her throat tightened. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't be," Law murmured. "It's been over a decade."

He exhaled slowly, as if trying to let something go with the breath.

"They were all going out to see a movie. It was the Muppets movie, of all things. My sister begged to go see it. I was supposed to go too. But I wanted to stay home and study—trying to get ahead, like always. That night, a drunk driver ran a red light and hit them head-on."

Robin didn't speak. She just listened, her eyes steady on the horizon.

"On impact, it killed my little sister and my mom," Law said quietly. "My dad… they tried to save him. Airlifted him to the hospital, but he died in transit. He was a surgeon, too."

Robin turned her gaze to the sand, her expression soft with quiet empathy. "That must've been unbearable."

Law let out a low, bitter chuckle. "It was. For a while, I couldn't even look at a hospital without freezing up. Thought I'd never set foot in one again. But then… I got adopted by Cora."

His voice shifted, rougher now, tinged with affection and guilt. "I was angry all the time. Always trying to run away. But that stupid bastard wouldn't give up on me. He was so… annoyingly supportive. Gave me a second chance. Helped me see that their deaths didn't have to be the end of their story."

Robin's voice was soft, almost reverent. "That's beautiful, you know. You're really strong to have gone through all that. What you're doing—it's admirable."

Law didn't reply. The silence lingered, warm and heavy in the desert air, until he broke it with a quiet, "What about you? What would you be doing right now?"

Robin smiled faintly. "Well, I already told you about Nami's birthday. I would've been there, watching her blow out the candles with that smug little smile she does when she knows everyone's looking at her. Sanji would be gushing about how she never ages—like he isn't only a year older than her. Brook would be at the piano, playing Happy Birthday in his overly dramatic concert style. And Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp would be butchering the lyrics at the top of their lungs."

She gave a soft laugh. "Zoro would act like he didn't care, but he'd be enjoying himself. Jinbe would be laughing with his whole chest. And Franky… Franky would be doing Franky things. Probably building her an unnecessarily complicated piñata while trying to rope everyone into karaoke with an '80s power ballad."

Law snorted. "Your roommates sound like a lot of fun. They'd probably get along with mine, honestly. Actually… I already know some of them do. Bepo's in the same department as Nami."

Robin raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. And my other roommates—Shachi and Penguin—they're ridiculous. Constantly pulling dumb stunts. It drives me nuts sometimes."

Robin laughed. "I forgot we go to the same college. Of course you don't just know Luffy from the soccer team. Or Chopper from the med department. I bet you know Usopp too, huh? And clearly, you know Nami."

Law hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yeah. And… I lied, by the way. Back in May, when you came into the clinic to drop off that paperwork? I said I didn't know who you were."

She glanced at him, curious. "Oh?"

"I'd seen you before. At a bunch of our soccer games. Always supporting that idiot monkey. I just didn't want to seem weird."

He paused, then added with a small, almost sheepish smile, "You always looked… way too cool to be friends with someone like him."

Robin let out a low, surprised laugh. "Well, that idiot monkey is my idiot monkey. And you? You're a lot less mysterious than you think."

Law rolled his eyes. "Don't ruin my image."

Law was quiet for a moment, the tension in his shoulders finally starting to show. Then he asked, voice low, "Do you think we're gonna be killed?"

Robin didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was calm and honest. "I don't know."

Law let out a shaky breath. "Then… can I confess something?"

Robin glanced at him, the faintest hint of curiosity in her eyes. "Go for it."

He didn't look at her when he spoke. Instead, he kept his eyes on the sand, as if avoiding her gaze made it easier.

"You're the only reason I volunteered for this trip."

His mind drifted back to when the research project was first brought up.

It was last semester. Law had been sitting outside the clinic, sipping what was probably his eighth coffee of the day and eating some kind of burrito. He looked completely wiped. His roommate Bepo—tall, soft-spoken, and white-haired—approached with their other housemates, Shachi and Penguin.

"Hey Law! Man, you look like shit," said Penguin.

"Yeah, more than usual," Shachi added with a chuckle.

Law shot them a glare. Shachi and Penguin quickly raised their hands in surrender.

"Relax, we're just teasing."

Bepo scolded gently, "You guys should ease up on him. He's in med school, plus he just added a second degree in history. And he still plays on the soccer team. Law's busy—overworked, underslept. You can't help but feel sorry for the guy."

"I don't need your pity," Law muttered.

Penguin and Shachi shrugged. "Yeah, Bepo, Law kinda did this to himself. No one to blame but him."

Law narrowed his eyes. "Did you all come all the way to the med department just to throw me a pity party? If so, leave so I can enjoy my lunch break."

Bepo shook his head. "No, we wanted to eat with you. It feels like we haven't had a proper meal together in forever… You're always gone."

"Then sit down, eat, and be quiet," Law grumbled.

Just then, an older man with a file in hand approached.

"Hello! Are you a student in the med department?" he asked.

Law deadpanned, "No, what gave you that idea?"

"Oh. Well, maybe you can still help me. I'm Dr. Clover, dean of the history, archaeology, and anthropology department. I'm looking for a med student who just enrolled in our department too—goes by the name…" He flipped through the file. "Trafalgar Law?"

Bepo brightened. "Well, you're in luck! This is Law, right here in the flesh!"

Law shot him a glare, and Bepo quickly added, "Sorry."

Dr. Clover beamed. "Wonderful! I've been trying to find you all day. If you're free, would you mind coming to my office? I'd like to discuss something with you."

"Looks like you're in trouble," Shachi teased.

"Big trouble," Penguin added.

Law rolled his eyes and stood. "Clearly something came up."

Bepo called after him, "Can you at least try to be home for dinner? We miss you."

Shachi and Penguin nodded in agreement.

Law groaned. "Fine. I'll try."

Bepo stuck out his pinky. "Promise?"

"What?"

"Pinky promise you'll try to be back."

"That's dumb."

Bepo looked genuinely hurt. Shachi and Penguin both chimed in, "Just do it, man."

Law groaned, locking pinkies with Bepo. "Yes, I pinky promise. Can you stop looking so pitiful now?"

Bepo grinned. "Awesome! You won't regret it. I'm making sushi tonight—it's gonna be amazing!"

With that, Law followed Dr. Clover to his office.

The room was a controlled chaos of old books, dusty maps, ancient artifacts, and half-unrolled blueprints. A fossilized jawbone sat in one corner. The whole place smelled faintly of old parchment and coffee.

Dr. Clover gestured for Law to sit, then took a seat behind his desk. "So, Law—what made you decide to pursue a history degree?"

"History's interesting. I wanted to know more. I could only manage an associate's, since med school eats most of my time."

"Well, we're glad to have you," Clover said warmly. "Actually, I brought you here to give you some well-earned praise. Your final project last semester in Ancient Civilizations? Fascinating stuff. Your analysis of early medical practices in pre-dynastic societies, and how they paralleled surgical theories in Eastern medicine—it was brilliant. I've never seen anyone connect those dots before. It was refreshing, honestly. I think you'd have a very promising future in historical research."

"If you brought me here to poach me from med school, the answer's no. I've wanted to be a surgeon since I was a kid. I've got two years left—I'm not changing paths now."

Clover chuckled. "No, no, nothing like that. Actually, I wanted to offer you an opportunity. A pretty good one, if I say so myself."

He leaned forward.

"I don't know if you're aware, but I'm an archaeologist by trade—not nearly as glamorous as the movies make it seem, by the way. Way more office work, and the field stuff is more dust and paperwork than danger and ancient traps. But I digress.

"This July, my PhD candidate and I are heading out of the country to a dig site in the desert. It's a recent satellite discovery—brand new ruins, very exciting stuff. Now, part of the requirement is to bring a medical professional along. The local team doesn't provide one. So, I wanted to see if you'd be interested in joining us as our on-site doctor. It's only a month. Shouldn't interfere too much with your schedule."

He added, almost offhandedly, "Robin already submitted her paperwork, so—"

"Wait. Robin? As in Nico Robin?"

Clover looked surprised. "Ah, so you've heard of her? She's my PhD candidate! She's quite brilliant—sharp, a bit quiet, a weird, dark sense of humor, but—"

"I'm in," Law interrupted.

Clover blinked. "Really?"

Law nodded.

"Well then!" Clover said, visibly delighted. "That was easier than expected. I'll get you the paperwork. You'll have until the third week of May to review and sign it. And don't worry if you lose it, I'll just send Robin over with another copy. Welcome to the team, Doctor."

Back in the present, Robin blinked at him. "Really?"

Law nodded, slowly. "Yeah, really. It seems really stupid now, but I just… I thought you seemed so cool. And you're quieter than all your friends. There's something mysterious about you. And you're beautiful. Like, actually beautiful. I wanted to get to know you better. I figured, maybe if we were stuck in the same place for a while, I'd have a chance."

He gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "And if things hit off between us while we were out here, I was planning to talk to you more on campus. Maybe—" he let out a long sigh, "—maybe ask you out on a date or something. Eventually. I don't know."

Robin stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then a soft smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "That's… very bold of you."

Law huffed. "I figured, if we're about to die, I might as well say it. No point in being mysterious now."

Robin's smile widened, just a touch. "Well… now I'm really hoping we make it out of here."

Law turned his head toward her, eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

Robin nodded, a warm glint in her eye despite the dry crack in her lips. "Yeah, sure. I mean, you're calling me beautiful, but you're also pretty attractive yourself."

Law blinked. "You think I'm attractive?"

She gave a soft, teasing shrug. "I've got eyes, don't I? There's a lot of people on campus who would love to go on a date with 'The Surgeon of Death.'"

He let out a quiet laugh, caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.

"And," Robin added, voice a little softer, "I haven't been on an actual date in a while. I think it would be nice. Something normal. Something that doesn't involve ancient ruins and death cults."

Law smiled, not his usual sarcastic smirk, but something genuine. "I'd take you somewhere good. Somewhere with air conditioning."

"That's a good start," Robin said with a little laugh. "And maybe somewhere that serves drinks with actual ice."

"I'll even wear something stupidly nice," he offered. "Dress shirt. Real pants. The whole thing."

She tilted her head, amused. "Now that I have to see."

They sat in silence after that, the kind that didn't feel heavy anymore—just quiet, comfortable, and oddly full of possibility.

A crunch of boots against sand broke the stillness. Robin tensed as a few of the masked figures approached, their black cloaks fluttering slightly in the dry desert breeze. One of them stepped forward, addressing Law directly.

"You finally ready to talk?"

Law, his lip still curled in that defiant half-smirk despite the bruising heat and dehydration, raised an eyebrow. "You want me to talk, huh? Why don't you get me a coffee or something first? Maybe some shade. Then I got some words for you. Eat shit."

Without hesitation, the masked figure drew back a gloved fist and drove it hard into Law's gut.

He choked on a breath, coughing as he doubled over against the pole, the bindings cutting into his arms. Robin's head snapped toward him.

"Law!" she called, struggling against her own restraints.

Two more figures moved in. One yanked Law upright, while another pulled a rough black bag over his head. He barely had time to grunt in protest before they began dragging him away from the pole, feet digging into the sand as he was hauled backward.

Robin twisted against the rope at her wrists, heart pounding. "Wait! Where are you taking him?!"

No answer. Just the soft shuffle of boots on sand, fading as Law disappeared from view.

Then, a shadow loomed above her.

She looked up just in time to see another bag descending.

"No—!"

Darkness swallowed everything.

---

The world returned in a blur of harsh light and cold air as the bag was yanked from Robin's head. She blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting. Gone was the blinding sun and endless desert—she was indoors now. The room was large, dimly lit by a chandelier that cast long shadows over a heavy wooden dining table in the center. Masked figures lined the walls, their rifles slung at the ready, their faces unreadable beneath fabric and goggles.

Robin scanned the table. Law, Dr. Clover, and Abasi were all tied to separate chairs. Their clothes were torn, faces bruised and dirt-smudged. Dr. Clover's glasses were askew, a deep cut on his forehead. Law's lip was split, his left eye swollen. Abasi looked the worst—sweating, lips cracked, blood on his shirt.

A masked figure stepped forward and tossed something toward Robin's feet. A dress.

"Here. Go and change," the voice rasped. "You need to look nice for dinner."

Robin couldn't move her arms. She shot the man a look. He turned to another and gave a nod. That one stepped forward and roughly cut the bindings on her wrists. Robin hissed softly, immediately rubbing her raw, rope-burned skin, then picked up the dress from the floor.

She spotted a modest privacy screen near the far corner of the room. As she began to move toward it, another masked figure shoved her roughly in that direction.

"Go. Change."

Robin straightened herself and cast a quick glance at Law. His good eye met hers, silently checking on her. She gave the faintest nod, then stepped behind the screen.

The dress was strange—a soft, silky midnight blue that shimmered like water when it caught the light. Sleeveless, with a high neck and a slit up one side, it was clearly chosen more for appearance than comfort. The fabric clung to her form, and there was something unsettling about how perfectly it fit.

She stepped out, barefoot, the hem just brushing the floor. The masked figures looked her over, then grabbed her again. She didn't resist as they dragged her to the only empty seat at the table—directly across from Law—and bound her wrists and ankles to the chair. To her right was the only seat left unoccupied: the one at the head of the table.

One of the masked figures leaned closer and murmured, "The Master will arrive shortly."

A long, tense silence followed.

Dr. Clover turned his head toward her, smiling weakly through a bloodied lip. "Robin. Are you alright?"

She exhaled slowly. "Yeah," she said, casting a glance at her dress. "I look better than you."

Dr. Clover chuckled, low and raspy. "You may be right."

But Robin's eyes quickly turned to Abasi. She leaned slightly forward, her voice sharper now.

"What is going on?" she demanded. "Who are these people? And why did you want us to be the ones to enter the ruins, and not you?"

Abasi didn't respond at first. He looked down at the table, breathing heavily. Something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe. Fear.

The tension thickened in the air. The masked men didn't speak, didn't move.

The heavy door creaked open.

Bootsteps echoed through the stone-floored room, measured and deliberate. A man stepped into view, framed by the light from the hallway behind him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored military-style coat that had seen better days. Purple hair curled out from the top of his head, and a tan mask covered the lower half of his face, concealing all but the jagged scars around his eyes.

He moved toward the head of the table with a confident, almost theatrical grace, gloved hands clasped behind his back.

"Hello, Dr. Clover."

Dr. Clover blinked, his battered face contorting with disbelief. "Dr. Spandam?"

The masked man's eyes crinkled with amusement. "In the flesh. More or less."

He turned to Robin next, his gaze sharp beneath the scars. "And you must be Nico Robin. I'll say—still just a student, yet you've made quite the waves in the archaeological community. Your reputation precedes you."

Robin met his gaze with cold, unwavering eyes. "I wish I could say the same."

Spandam looked toward the other masked men surrounding the table and clapped his hands once.

"Untie them."

One of the men hesitated. "But sir—"

"For Christ's sake, they're not going anywhere," Spandam snapped, rolling his eyes. "And if they try, shoot them. But how are they supposed to eat dinner if they can't even grab a fork?"

There was a long pause. Then, reluctantly, the masked figures moved. One by one, they approached the captives, cutting the restraints from wrists and ankles.

Robin flexed her fingers as the ropes dropped away, the burn of circulation returning. Law rubbed his shoulder, his eyes narrowed but locked on Spandam. Clover simply leaned back, weariness and wariness in equal measure.

Abasi didn't move. He sat still, his shoulders tense.

Spandam sank into the empty chair at the head of the table, folding into it like he'd been waiting for this moment. He reached for the waiting wine glass and raised it lazily in the air.

"To reunions—and revelations."

He took a slow, deliberate sip, then set the glass down with a soft clink. The others remained still, eyes shifting uneasily between the opulent spread before them and the guards still lining the room, weapons in hand.

Each place setting had been meticulously arranged: polished silverware, a crystal glass of deep red wine, and another filled with fresh water. The plates were stacked with a meal so decadent it looked like something served in a Michelin-starred restaurant, not a hostage den in the middle of the desert.

Spandam waved his fork dismissively. "Go on, eat. Drink. It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not that cliché. Besides, you all must be parched."

He pointed his fork toward Robin and Law. "Especially you two. Tied to a post in the blazing heat for a week straight—barely any food or water. Honestly, I'm impressed. Thought one of you would've passed out by now."

Robin, Law, and Clover exchanged quiet, wary glances. No one moved right away. The silence was thick, tense.

Then Abasi reached forward and grabbed his glass of water, downing it in one long gulp like he couldn't get it into his system fast enough.

Spandam grinned, eyes flicking to the others. "See? Perfectly safe. I may be a bastard, but I do have some manners."

Law reached forward, unhurried, and took the glass of water. He sipped it slowly, his sharp eyes never leaving Spandam. Robin followed suit, lifting her wine glass and taking a small, measured drink. Her expression remained unreadable.

Dr. Clover, ever the diplomat despite the bruises and dust, leaned forward slightly. "So, Dr. Spandam," he began, voice cool but firm, "are you the one responsible for all of this?"

Spandam let out a laugh—short, amused, and grating. "Goodness, no," he said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin he hadn't earned. "Just like you, I was hired to come out here and excavate the ruins."

He twirled his fork absently above his plate, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. "However, unlike you, my employer happens to be... shall we say, a bit more high-profile than university funding."

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "I was given a very specific directive: map the main ruins. The very same ruins Miss Nico Robin and that doctor boy," he gestured vaguely toward Law, "stumbled into a few days ago."

Spandam gave Abasi a sideways glance before continuing, "We had an arrangement with Mr. Abasi here. He was to keep you—and your students—away from the site until your little dig wrapped up. Tell you it was unstable, dangerous, cursed, or whatever nonsense it took. Promise you first rights if it ever became 'safe.' That sort of thing."

He sighed, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. "Clearly, that didn't work. You two went in anyway. And now the ruins—my ruins—are gone. Collapsed before I ever got the chance to set foot inside."

He set his fork down with a sharp clatter. "So. That's why you're here. You're going to tell me everything you found in there."

Spandam snapped his fingers. "Bring me the bag."

One of the guards quickly disappeared into a back hallway and returned moments later with Robin's bag slung over his shoulder. Without ceremony, he dumped its contents onto the table. The two aged rubbings slid out—sheets of parchment worn from handling, edges slightly frayed, but the ancient glyphs etched across them were still perfectly legible to trained eyes.

Spandam picked up one of the rubbings delicately, as if it were a sacred artifact. "These," he said, holding it up for the others to see, "are clearly Poneglyph readings from the ruins. Artifacts of the Void Century—irreplaceable. Potentially... explosive."

He exhaled with dramatic flair and set the rubbing back down, looking first to Robin, then Clover. "Unfortunately," he continued, "I can't read them. But as luck would have it, two of the only people in the world who can are sitting right here at my dinner table."

He rested his elbows on the table, fingers steepled again. "So. Dr. Clover. Nico Robin. What exactly do they say?"

Robin stared at him, calm and unfazed. "And if we refuse to tell you?"

Spandam grinned, teeth bared. "I think I made that pretty clear." He leaned forward, voice dropping low. "You die."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Robin smirked.

"Well," she said evenly, "how are you planning on translating them if we're dead? You'll never get them deciphered without us. Clearly, you need us far more than we need you."

Spandam's smile dropped.

A crack echoed across the room as he slapped Robin hard across the face. Her head jerked with the impact, but she didn't cry out—just blinked slowly, absorbing the blow with ice in her veins.

"Shut it," Spandam hissed through clenched teeth, "you incompetent wench!"

Law and Dr. Clover both surged in their seats, chairs scraping back against the floor.

"Robin—!"

"Stop that!"

Before they could move any farther, masked guards stepped in, rifles aimed squarely at their chests. The tension in the room crackled like static.

Spandam stood now, looming over the table, breathing hard. "You all are fools if you don't see the gravity of your situation. I am in charge here. And I will find out what you saw in that ruin."

He turned his glare on each of them in turn, eyes hard and full of venom.

"Nico Robin. Trafalgar Law. Make no mistake. I will get my answers."

He paused, then added, almost gloating, "One way or another."

The room sat in thick, bitter silence.

Law glared at Spandam, teeth gritted so tightly it was a wonder they didn't shatter. Robin's lips trembled, more from rage than fear, her fingers brushing gently at the split on her mouth. Dr. Clover stared daggers across the table, knuckles white where they clutched the edge of his seat.

Meanwhile, Abasi—completely detached from the scene—continued to devour his meal, blissfully chewing as though none of this concerned him.

Spandam leaned back in his chair with a theatrical sigh. "So none of you want to talk still, huh?" He glanced around with mock disappointment. "It's really quiet in here. How about some music? And dancing."

He turned to Robin, leering. "Nico Robin, since you're already dressed for the occasion… why don't you humor me with a dance?"

Before she could respond, Law snarled, "Hey. Keep your hands off her, you sick pervert."

Spandam cocked his head, amused. "Oh? So you finally decide to speak, and that's what you say?"

The two men glared at each other, venom burning between them.

Then, without warning, Spandam yanked a rifle from one of the nearby guards and fired.

The crack of the shot rang through the room like a thunderclap.

Law shouted in pain, slumping forward as blood soaked through the sleeve of his shirt. Robin and Dr. Clover recoiled in shock, Robin's eyes going wide as she turned toward him.

"Be quiet," Spandam snapped, lowering the smoking rifle. "If you're not going to say anything nice, then don't say anything at all, stupid boy."

He turned back to Robin with a crooked grin. "Nico Robin? Where's that dance?"

Robin's jaw clenched. She remained frozen, wavering somewhere between refusal and restraint.

Dr. Clover's voice came soft and heavy. "Just… do as he says, Robin."

Spandam's grin widened. "Very good suggestion, Dr. Clover. You truly are a brilliant man."

Then, cruelly, he leaned across the table, jabbing his finger into the fresh gunshot wound in Law's arm.

Law let out a low, guttural cry, breath hitching as he struggled to stay upright. Sweat glistened on his brow.

"Maybe you should take after your professor," Spandam hissed, "and learn to watch your manners, hm?"

At that moment, one of the guards stepped toward an old record player in the corner. The vinyl spun to life with a soft crackle. And then, as if the room hadn't just been silenced by a gunshot, the brassy opening of "Lemon Tree" by Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass began to play, oddly upbeat and out of place amidst the tension and blood.

Spandam approached Robin with a smug grin, holding out a gloved hand.

"Come now, Nico Robin," he said. "Do you know how to dance?"

Robin kept her expression neutral. "No," she replied flatly.

Spandam gave a patronizing laugh, shaking his head. "Don't lie. There's no need to. Come on now." He grasped her hand and tugged her forward gently but insistently. She complied, rising stiffly from her chair, the elegant dress flowing around her ankles as he led her a few steps into the cleared space near the dining table.

With his hand at her waist and the other still gripping hers, they began to move awkwardly to the upbeat rhythm—Spandam swaying with exaggerated flair, Robin moving only as much as she needed to.

Her eyes flicked around the room.

The guards stood by, some watching, some disinterested. Law sat slumped in his chair, gripping his injured arm, blood trailing down his sleeve. Dr. Clover looked down, jaw clenched, clearly restraining himself. Abasi, almost drunken now, was still picking at the remains of his plate with a glass of wine lazily dangling in one hand.

Robin's gaze shifted again—this time to the table where her bag had been dumped. Its contents were scattered: her notebook, folded maps, the rubbings, a yardstick, her phone, pens, the solar charger Franky had given her, her pocketknife.

The pocketknife.

Her eyes lingered just a second too long, and she quickly flicked them away, resuming a blank expression before Spandam could notice. She continued the dance, calculating, every movement subtly inching her closer to the table.

Spandam was grinning like a fool, clearly pleased with himself, spinning her in a slow circle. "See? Not so bad, is it? Sometimes, the best way to break people is to give them a taste of comfort. Music, wine, a pretty dress—makes the pain so much more... personal."

Robin said nothing, but her jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"You know," Spandam said, his voice slick with condescension, "I wasn't surprised to hear that another Nico entered the world of archaeology. Nico Olvia was one of a kind. Brilliant, reckless, deluded. I'm sure you still live in her shadow."

Robin's jaw clenched. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but razor-sharp. "You knew my mother?"

Spandam chuckled, slow and theatrical. "Oh yes, I knew her. Dr. Clover did too. But I'm sure you know that already."

Robin didn't answer immediately. She allowed herself a single breath to level her thoughts before responding, "Yes. It's come up a few times."

Spandam spun her slowly, his mask catching the low light as the vinyl crackled behind them. "To be frank, no one knew she had a daughter until your first published work came out. But in your writing, I could see a little of her. She was stubborn—so sure she could change the world with truth. But truth gets people killed. She learned the hard way. I'm sure you did too when CPS yanked you from your hometown, Ohara."

Robin's eyes flicked briefly to Dr. Clover, who was glaring daggers from his chair, then to Law—who was pale, gripping his bleeding arm tightly, his breath coming in shallow bursts. She looked back to Spandam.

"I learned a lot that day," she said coldly. "Including the kinds of cowards who call themselves men when they burn libraries and silence voices."

Spandam's smile thinned. "Still sharp-tongued, like your mother. But don't test me, Nico Robin. I don't need your spirit. Just your mind."

He leaned in a little closer, his voice almost a whisper against the music. "And if I have to break you to get what I want... I will."

Robin didn't flinch. "You can try."

"Oh, I plan on it," Spandam replied smoothly.

In one swift, deliberate motion, he grabbed her face with his gloved hand, forcing her to look up at him. With the other, he pressed a small vial to her lips and poured the contents down her throat before she could fully resist.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, jerking away. She staggered backward, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor.

Spandam looked down at her with a calm, cruel smile. "That vial contained a slow-acting poison. Over the next thirty-six hours, it will spread through your body—killing you painfully. Slowly. And guess what? I'm the only one with the antidote."

He turned to the others, brushing invisible dust from his coat like he'd just completed a chore. His gaze landed on Dr. Clover.

"You will translate the poneglyphs."

Then, to Law: "And you, Doctor, will tell me exactly what you saw inside those ruins. That is…" He glanced back at Robin, sprawled on the floor, clutching her stomach, "…if you want her to live."

Robin didn't speak. She was breathing hard, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other curled tight in her lap. Law's eyes were wild with rage. He shoved himself up from his seat, but the pain in his wounded arm sent him crashing back down with a grunt.

"You bastard—"

"Careful," Spandam warned, eyes narrowing. "I've already shot you once. Don't tempt me to make it a matching set."

Dr. Clover had gone pale, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. "You're insane," he muttered. "Poisoning her? Do you honestly think this will get you what you want?"

Spandam gave a smug smile, stepping over Robin like she was a rug in his way. He slowly lowered himself back into his chair at the head of the table and crossed one leg over the other, reaching lazily for his wine glass again.

"I think," he said, swirling the red liquid, "that fear is a very effective motivator. I think that when it's her life on the line, you'll both reconsider just how valuable your secrets are."

Robin pulled herself into a sitting position on the floor, breathing hard. Her eyes flicked toward Law, to Clover, then to the record player still playing softly in the background.

She lifted her hand and wiped her mouth, the smear of red across her palm bright and terrifying.

"Three days," Spandam said again. "You have that long to tell me everything. Or she dies."

Abasi cleared his throat and raised his hand halfway, trying to act casual. "Uh… I don't suppose I could get a bit more water?"

For a beat, the room was dead silent—only the soft crackle of the vinyl player and the melancholy melody of the vinyl lingering in the air. Then, suddenly, Spandam barked out a laugh, and the rest of the masked figures followed, their voices echoing around the stone walls like some kind of sick applause.

"Oh, god," Spandam wheezed between snickers, wiping a tear from beneath his mask. "That might be the funniest thing I've heard all week."

The laughter died down, and Spandam's smile vanished like a switch flipped. He stood from his seat, slow and deliberate. "Lock them up," he ordered, gesturing sharply at Robin, Law, and Dr. Clover. "We'll let them rot for a bit, maybe get them to rethink their silence."

One of the masked men stepped forward. "What about him?" he asked, tilting his head toward Abasi, who had frozen mid-sip of his wine.

Spandam didn't hesitate. "Kill him. He's of no use to us anymore."

Abasi immediately stood up, chair screeching against the floor. "Wait, wait! I helped you! I did everything you asked—!"

The guards began dragging Robin, Law, and Clover toward the back of the room, down a dark hall. Robin twisted her head just enough to glimpse Abasi, arms raised, stumbling backward in panic.

"No, please! I can still be of help! I—!"

A gunshot cracked through the air.

Robin flinched.

Law tensed, groaning from the pain in his arm.

Dr. Clover hung his head.

The music kept playing.

And then they were gone from the dining room, the door slamming shut behind them with a final, echoing clang.

---

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind them, its echo reverberating down the stone corridor. Robin stumbled slightly as she was shoved into the cell, steadying herself against the cold wall. A heavy cuff locked around her ankle, tethering her to a rusted chain bolted into the stone. She was the only one restrained.

Law was already inside, slumped in the far corner. His shirt clung to him, soaked through with blood, his breathing shallow and ragged. Dr. Clover paced near the cell bars, his hands twisting the edge of his shirt, eyes darting like he was trying to solve an equation that refused to resolve.

"I'm sorry," Clover murmured, mostly to himself. "This was supposed to be a routine dig. A simple research trip. And now..." He shook his head. "Dear god, what have we gotten ourselves into?"

Robin didn't answer. Her mind was already focused on Law.

She crossed the small cell quickly, dropping to her knees beside him. His jaw was clenched tight in pain, but he forced his eyes open at her approach. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his fingers twitched faintly where they hovered near his wounded arm.

"Hey," she said softly, brushing a few damp strands of hair from his face. "Are you alright?"

Law let out a breath that landed somewhere between a laugh and a wince. "You're the one who just got poisoned... and you're worried about me?"

Robin glanced down at his wound again, her expression tightening. "We need to stop the bleeding. I can try to wrap it with something from my dress."

"I'm the doctor," Law muttered. "Let me do it."

"Then walk me through it," she said, already reaching for the hem of her dress. She gripped it with her teeth and tore a strip free without hesitation.

Law gave a pitiful laugh. "That's a damn shame... I thought you looked nice in that dress."

She gave him a small smile as she folded the fabric strip in her hands. "Tell me what to do."

Law's head leaned back against the stone wall, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he spoke. "Tie it just above the wound. Tight. We need to slow the blood loss."

Robin nodded and moved with care. He hissed through his teeth as she wrapped the torn fabric around his upper arm and pulled it tight. His body went rigid, jaw clenched, but he didn't pull away.

"Under better circumstances, you'd need to clean it," he said, voice rough. "But we don't exactly have a first aid kit. Or clean water. Or anything to sterilize it."

He groaned as he lifted his arm slightly, grimacing. "At least it exited. We won't have to dig the bullet out."

Clover's voice wavered with a mix of frustration and guilt. "Our hands are tied. We have to give Spandam the information he wants. The next time one of those masked people comes in, I'll tell him we're ready to talk."

"No!" Robin and Law spoke in unison, both voices sharp.

Robin stood, her voice firm as she approached Clover. "Dr. Clover, you didn't see the ruins like we did. The things we found in there—they were extraordinary. They could rewrite the history books. If this information falls into the wrong hands, then—"

"I don't care!" Clover interrupted, his voice rising. His hands balled into fists at his sides. He sighed heavily, deflating, and his shoulders sagged as he slid down the wall. "Look at the two of you. One of you just got shot, and the other's been poisoned. Under my watch. Under my care. You're my students. It was my responsibility to ensure your well-being out here... and I failed."

The silence between them was thick, broken only by the faint sounds of distant footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Clover's eyes found Robin's, his voice softer now. "Why did you go into those ruins without informing me?"

Robin paused, guilt flashing across her face before she spoke. "I'm sorry, Dr. Clover. I wasn't thinking. I just... I got so excited. Those ruins—they were everything I've been searching for since I decided to pursue archaeology. And everything my mother wanted to see."

Clover looked at her for a long moment, his gaze softening with an almost imperceptible sadness. "You really are Olvia's daughter, you know that?"

Robin offered him a small, wistful smile, her lips barely twitching. The mention of her mother always carried weight.

Clover sighed again, rubbing his temple. "So... what's the plan from here?"

Law, who had been silent, spoke up, his voice gravelly but steady. "Our priority should be the antidote to Robin's poison. Then, getting the hell out of here while we still can."

Clover's voice was tight with frustration as he looked at Law. "Okay, Trafalgar, how do you suggest we do that then? We're all in a cell right now. We still don't know what the situation is, where we are, who hired Spandam, or why. We're walking in blind."

Law and Robin exchanged a quick glance before Robin spoke, her voice steady but laced with resolve. "I don't know the who's or where's. But in those ruins, we found murals and writings—ones that date back to the Void Century. And…" She hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes narrowing as she spoke the next words. "We found a statue. One we believe to be erected in respect to Nerona Imu. As a matter of fact, most of the writings there were referring to them."

Clover's face shifted instantly, his eyes widening in surprise. "Nerona Imu? You mean that ruler from over 800 years ago? But they ruled a kingdom that at the time would have been far away from these ruins. It doesn't make sense. Are you sure?"

"We're quite certain," Robin affirmed, her voice calm but insistent. "Whoever hired Spandam must have an interest in the Void Century."

Clover's face fell into shock, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. He let out a low scoff. "The Void Century…" His voice trailed off as though the mere mention of it overwhelmed him. "I wish… I wish I could have seen the murals. I'm sure they were a wonder."

Robin's expression softened, but she pressed on. "As far as getting out of here… let's think. The person who hired Spandam must be communicating with him somehow. I know we're in the middle of nowhere and there's no service, but there has to be a radio, at least. Or some form of technology that would allow him to communicate with his employer. I don't know about getting out of this cell, but…"

Law cut in, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he'd already worked out the next steps. "That's the easy part. We just tell Spandam we're ready to talk."

Clover scoffed. "Sure. We both get out. But what about Robin? She's chained. And unless I'm missing something, we're unarmed. They'll shoot us the moment we make a wrong move."

Robin straightened up, her eyes locking onto Clover with a calm confidence. "I have my own ways I can get out of here."

Clover blinked, genuinely confused. "How?"

Robin shot them both a sly look, a mischievous glint in her eye as she winked. "My feminine wiles."

Law chimed in. "I also have a plan, in case that goes south."

---

The sound of boots on stone echoed down the corridor before a masked guard appeared at their cell door, a metal tray in his hands. Without a word, he slid it through the slot near the bottom. Three tiny shot glasses of water and a few unidentifiable lumps that passed for food clattered onto the tray.

Robin moved to the bars, casually leaning against them with a practiced grace. "Is that really all you're giving us?" she asked, her voice smooth, almost amused.

The guard grunted. "Comply, and maybe you'll get more."

She tilted her head, letting her fingers idly trace the cold bars. "I'm much more agreeable when I'm hydrated, you know. Did you know humans are primarily made of water? So are all the liquids we make." She offered a coy smile, her voice seductive. "And I'm parched."

Law let out a sudden cough, his cheeks turning a shade pink. Clover looked somehow both disgusted and disappointed.

The guard, however, furrowed his brow behind the mask. "...What?"

Clover sighed. "Look, we're all ready to talk to Spandam. Please—take us to him."

The guard shook his head. "We are only allowed to let the you and the site doctor see him. Nico Robin is not to leave this cell."

Robin glanced back at Law and Clover, giving a small nod.

Clover stood, adjusting his glasses. "Very well. But on one condition: you allow Mr. Trafalgar to see to his wound prior. He is a doctor, after all."

"That's for Spandam to decide," the guard said flatly, reaching for the cell door keys.

The moment the lock clicked, Law surged forward.

In an instant, he was on the guard—despite his injured arm. The two collided hard into the corridor wall, grappling. The guard shouted, struggling to pull his rifle free. Law gritted his teeth, using his good arm to shove the barrel away, the weapon clattering to the ground as they twisted and wrestled. The guard's hand went for his radio, fingers brushing it just before Law slammed his knee into the man's gut.

The radio clattered to the floor and skidded across the stone just as Law grabbed the rifle and used the butt to smash it into the side of the guard's head.

The man slumped to the floor, unmoving.

Law exhaled heavily, holding his side. Blood soaked the bandage now.

He quickly stripped the uniform from the downed guard and tossed the black robe and red-glint mask to Clover, along with the ring of keys. "Come on. Get dressed. Try those on Robin's shackle."

Clover caught the items and dropped to his knees by Robin's ankle. At that moment, Robin turned away, coughing into her arm. When she pulled it back, Law caught the faint glint of red smeared in the crook of her elbow.

"What's wrong? Is the poison starting to take hold?" he asked, moving toward her in alarm.

Robin wiped the blood away calmly. "I'm alright. Just a little reminder. Sorry I couldn't flirt better."

Despite everything, Law gave a dry, crooked smirk.

Clover cursed from the floor, fumbling with the keys. "Damn it! None of them work. The key's not here."

Robin's voice was light, almost amused. "It's fine."

Law rose and crossed to her in two quick strides. "No, it's not. I'm not just going to leave you here."

Robin laid a steady hand on his shoulder. "You won't have much time before someone notices. Please—go. Find the antidote. Find out where we are—exact coordinates if you can. Look for anything: maps, documents, labels on equipment. And we need a way to contact the outside world. A radio, ideally. Something not locked to local frequencies."

"Robin..." Law's voice was low, rough with frustration and guilt.

She took his hand in hers, squeezing it. "I'll be fine. Now go."

Law held her gaze for a moment, then squeezed back. "I'm coming back for you. I promise."

She smiled. "I know."

---

Disguised in the dark robe and mask, Clover walked with careful purpose, his steps measured to mimic the stiff cadence of the guards they'd seen earlier. Behind him, Law stumbled along, wrists bound in front of him with rope. He kept his head low, playing the role of the compliant prisoner with just enough weakness in his posture to sell it.

As they passed other guards in the corridor, Clover gave brisk nods of acknowledgment. Most didn't look twice—just another routine transfer, it seemed. But Law could feel the heat of every passing glance, the tight coil of tension in his gut tightening with every step.

After what felt like an eternity, Clover turned a sharp corner into an empty side hall, its flickering overhead lights casting long shadows. He paused, checked over his shoulder, then ducked quickly into a blind spot beside a crumbling column. Once hidden, he knelt beside Law and began working at the knots with surprisingly nimble fingers.

"You remember the plan, geezer?" Law muttered under his breath.

Clover huffed. "Yes, yes, yes. I go find our location and a radio and you—wait. Did you just call me a geezer?" He fixed Law with an indignant look. "Should I be the one to remind you that you're still my student? You know, students can be expelled from the program for harassing their instructors."

Law scoffed. "I think getting kicked out of the history department is the least of my worries right now."

The ropes slipped free with a soft tug. Law rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. His eyes flicked up to the rifle slung across Clover's back.

"You ever fired a gun?"

Clover blinked. "No, I haven't. I haven't had any need to."

"Then give it to me," Law said, already reaching.

Clover hesitated. "Then I'll have nothing to protect myself."

"A gun's worthless if you don't know how to use it," Law said firmly. "My dad is ex-military. I've had training. I guarantee I've got more experience than you. Besides, you're the one in disguise. You've got the mask, the uniform. You're safer than I am right now."

There was a long pause. Clover sighed, grumbled something unintelligible, then unslung the rifle and handed it over.

"Fine. But only because you're going to find Spandam."

Law took the weapon with a grateful nod, checking the chamber with practiced efficiency.
"Let's try to reconvene here."

They began to move in opposite directions—Clover toward the far corridor, Law backtracking toward the central hall—when Clover stopped.

"Say, Trafalgar?"

Law paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"When you find Spandam… make him pay for putting Robin in that dress." His voice hardened. "And get her antidote. No matter what it costs."

Law's mouth curled into a cold, confident smirk. "I plan on it."

---

The facility was colder than Law expected—steel walls and stone underfoot, each step echoing faintly despite his effort to stay quiet. The hallways were dimly lit, a faint hum from overhead lights pulsing like a heartbeat. His own was erratic.

The makeshift tourniquet Robin had tied around his upper arm was soaked through now. Blood had dried along the edges, crusted into the torn strip of her dress. Every few steps, his vision would blur just a little, forcing him to slow down and brace against the wall until the dizziness passed.

Focus.

His fingers tightened around the rifle Clover had given him. He needed to find a medical station—alcohol, gauze, sutures, anything. Stitching himself up would be painful, but he could do it. He'd done worse in worse conditions. But Robin had been poisoned, and time wasn't on their side.

First the antidote. Then I can worry about bleeding out.

He turned another corner, pressing himself into the shadows as a pair of masked guards passed. He waited until their footsteps faded completely before continuing. Most doors were locked or led to empty rooms, old storage closets, or hallways still under construction. But eventually, one door at the end of a narrow corridor caught his attention.

There was a soft murmur behind it. Voices.

He crept up, rifle slung carefully across his back now, and pressed his ear to the cold metal door. It wasn't thick—he could just make out the voice of Spandam, nasally and shrill, cutting through the static of a radio.

"—need you to come to the main base from the temple."

A pause.

The response was low, quiet, but clear. Male. Controlled. "Oh? I thought you had everything handled and that you were more than capable of protecting yourself. Did something happen?"

Law's jaw clenched.

"No, nothing happened!" Spandam snapped. There was a sound of pacing, maybe a chair scraping. "Is it so wrong for me to want backup? Your forces are mine for the duration of this trip! So come here and freaking protect me. I have a bad feeling in my gut."

The voice didn't respond right away. Then came a slow, thoughtful murmur. "Very well. We'll be there shortly. Don't do anything rash before then, Spandam."

Law heard the faint click of the radio going silent. A moment later, Spandam cursed under his breath, something metal clattering—maybe he kicked the table.

Law pulled back from the door slightly, heart pounding. So he's scared. Good. Scared people make mistakes.

He glanced down the hallway. Still clear.

Think. He could storm in now, but if Spandam had the antidote on him, one wrong move and it could be destroyed. He needed to know where it was. Better yet, he needed leverage. Something Spandam wouldn't risk losing.

But first—he leaned against the wall briefly, breathing through a fresh wave of dizziness—he needed to keep moving. Robin was depending on him.

Let's see what you're hiding, Spandam.

And with that, Law slid along the wall, searching for another way in. Law tilted his head back, blinking sweat from his eyes. Above him, a square metal vent cover was set into the ceiling, its bolts slightly rusted. He unslung the rifle from his back and carefully extended it upward, nudging the corner of the vent.

It gave with a faint screech of metal.

He winced.

Another push—gentler this time—and the vent came loose. Law caught it before it clattered to the ground and set it aside.

Next problem: getting up there.

He scanned the corridor quickly, ignoring the throb in his arm, and spotted a wooden crate stacked with sealed water canteens. He scoffed under his breath at the bitter irony—plenty of water, just a little too late. But it was sturdy enough.

Gripping the edge of the crate, he dragged it below the vent. Then, with a grunt of effort and a sharp stab of pain from his wound, he climbed atop it and hauled himself into the shaft.

It was narrow. Warm. Dusty. His breathing echoed softly in the confined metal tunnel as he dragged himself forward inch by inch. He stayed low, careful not to make too much noise.

Eventually, he reached the vent above the room and peered down through the slats.

Spandam was pacing.

Below him, the man was fiddling anxiously with Robin's rubbings—ancient script scrawled on delicate sheets of paper now crumpled in frustration. Spandam threw them onto a table with a groan, pacing like a caged animal.

"Calm down, Spandam," he muttered to himself. "You will get what you want, even if they decide not to talk and let Nico Robin die."

Law's stomach twisted.

Spandam stopped in front of the desk and held up a golden radio, flipping it in his hands like a toy, his fingers twitching. "You've got this," he whispered to it. "This is your trump card."

He tossed it once more into the air, caught it, then set it down carefully on the table before collapsing into his chair with a dramatic sigh.

That was Law's opening.

He backed up slightly in the vent, braced his feet and shoulders—and kicked.

The vent cover flew open, clattering across the floor.

Spandam's head snapped up just in time to see Law drop down from the ceiling like a ghost of vengeance. The impact jarred his ribs, but he gritted through it, tackling Spandam out of the chair and onto the floor.

They grappled, Spandam flailing with zero technique. He tried to scream, but Law kneed him in the gut, forcing the wind from his lungs.

Blood pounded in Law's ears. Pain roared through his arm. But he pushed through.

His hand scrambled across the table—grabbed the golden radio.

He rolled off Spandam, rifle in his other hand now, aimed at the man's chest as he staggered backward.

"Talk," Law growled. His voice was low, dangerous. "Now. Otherwise, I break this radio."

Spandam froze—hands half-raised, mouth hanging open like a caught fish. His eyes darted between the rifle aimed at him and the glint of the golden radio in Law's grip.

"You wouldn't dare—!"

"I would," Law growled. His finger tightened on the trigger. "Where's the antidote?"

Spandam's voice cracked with panic. "Wait, wait—don't! You don't even know what you're holding!"

"I don't give a flying fuck. You have three seconds. One... two... th—"

"I don't have the antidote!" Spandam blurted.

Law's expression darkened. "What the fuck do you mean you don't have the antidote?"

"What do you think I mean?!" Spandam snapped, sweat running down his temple. "I was handed that vial when I got here! I don't even know what was in it—just that it was a slow-acting poison! If someone has the antidote, it's not here. It's probably with someone back at the temple!"

Law's voice turned razor-sharp. "What fucking temple? Where even are we? How far from the dig site?!"

Before Spandam could answer, the door burst open.

Three figures stepped in. One was a tall man with long black hair and an oddly-shaped beard. Another, shorter, had a cap pulled low and a long, square nose. The third was a sharp-eyed woman with blonde hair and glasses.

"Here we are, Spandam. Had to—" the black-haired man began, but his voice trailed off as the group instantly sized up the scene.

Spandam shot to his feet—only for Law to lunge and drag him back, rifle still aimed and now pressed firmly against his hostage's ribs.

"Lucci! Kaku! Kalifa! Perfect timing!" Spandam wheezed, his voice shrill.

The newcomers drew their guns in unison, aiming them squarely at Law.

Law shifted, using Spandam as a human shield. "Go ahead. Take the shot. You'll be putting a hole in this idiot too."

Lucci didn't flinch. "Do you think I care?"

Spandam gawked. "WHAT?! I'm your superior! I'm in charge of this operation! You can't kill your boss!"

Lucci's eyes narrowed, unblinking. "Then stop making yourself a liability."

Law's eyes flicked to the window behind Spandam's desk. It was their only shot.

"Don't move," he growled, tightening his grip on Spandam. Then he bolted.

"What are you—?!" Spandam yelped as Law dragged him backward at full sprint, the rifle jammed into his side. Gunfire erupted behind them, bullets splintering the doorframe as Lucci and the others opened fire.

Without hesitation, Law pivoted, twisted his body—and hurled Spandam forward, crashing them both through the window in a rain of shattering glass.

They tumbled out into open air, plummeting.

They hit the sand hard, a cloud of golden dust exploding around them. Law groaned, the impact jarring his already-battered body. His shoulder throbbed, the tourniquet damp with blood again. But he kept his grip firm, the rifle still clenched in one hand, the other yanking Spandam to his feet.

Spandam sputtered, coughing sand. "You maniac—! Do you know who I—"

"Shut up," Law hissed, dragging him forward. "You're not dying until you get me to that temple."

"You're insane!"

Spandam whimpered as Law shoved him forward, the barrel of the rifle pressed to his back. The facility loomed behind them, voices shouting from the broken window. Alarms hadn't started yet—but they would.

Law gritted his teeth, eyes scanning the desert terrain for cover.

They had to move. Fast.

And Spandam was going to lead the way.

---

Dr. Clover sat cross-legged on the floor, his mask was discarded. He was hunched over the cracked frame of a shortwave radio. Wires were splayed out like veins, and the casing looked like it had survived three different decades of warzones. His fingers were smudged with dust and grease as he twisted a dial and gave the side of the device a firm smack.

"Come on, you old piece of junk," he muttered, glancing between the radio and a worn, folded map beside him. Coordinates were scrawled along the edges in his tidy handwriting, circled and underlined—potential dig sites, known temple locations, the facility's perimeter.

He reached for the mic and clicked it on.

"This is Doctor Clover, professor at Grand Line University. My students and I were taken hostage by an unknown group. If anyone on this frequency can hear me, we require medical extraction and immediate backup—coordinates are—"

shhk—click.

The second radio on his belt crackled to life. A burst of static, then a voice, low and cold.

"This is Lucci. The doctor has escaped. He is armed and has Spandam in custody. Begin sweeping the facility and surrounding desert. Dr. Clover and Nico Robin are to be considered missing and possibly with him. Find them."

Clover froze. "Trafalgar," he muttered through gritted teeth, "what happened to meeting up back here?"

He stood abruptly, brushing off the sand from his knees. His fingers fumbled to fold the map and shove it into his satchel.

Then his breath caught. His eyes widened. "Robin."

He snatched up the busted radio and stuffed it into his bag, then slung it over his shoulder as he started sprinting away.

---

Robin sat hunched on the cold floor, coughing into her elbow. Her fingers trembled as she tried another key from the ring she'd stolen off the unconscious guard. Click. Nothing. She tried another. Still nothing. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the keys across the cell—metal clanging against stone. Her wrists fell into her lap.

"Useless," she muttered, forcing herself upright despite the pain. Her ankle throbbed in the shackle, raw skin pressing against iron. Across the room, her bag of belongings rested haphazardly on a table, just out of reach. She limped to the limit of the chain, reaching as far as she could—almost. After a few agonizing moments of stretching and scraping, she managed to snag the strap and drag the bag toward her.

She fell back into the cell, pulling the bag with her. Digging through it, she yanked out her pocket knife. She eyed the shackle lock. "Please," she whispered to the blade like it might understand, and began to fiddle with it. The knife slipped out with a clink. No progress.

"Damn. I wish Nami had taught me how to do this. Never thought lockpicking would be a useful skill until now."

She rummaged deeper in the bag—nothing that could help. Her fingers brushed the solar charger Franky had tossed into her trunk the day she left. She pulled it out, intending to discard it… then noticed a small, unfamiliar button on the side. She hesitated. Her mind flashed back.

Franky had been standing in the driveway with the others, tossing the charger into her bag with flair.

"In case you need to power up your phone… need or a laser cannon."

Robin had raised a brow. "Why would I need a laser cannon?"

Franky had winked. "You say that now."

Robin blinked at the charger. "Huh. That's strange."

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

Her heart jumped. She shoved her belongings, aside from the charger, into her bag and flung it onto the table again. She crouched, grabbing the unconscious guard by the arms, and strained to pull him back inside the cell. Her muscles screamed. Just as the footsteps neared, she managed to slump the guard against the wall and push the cell door closed.

A soldier entered, rifle in hand. He paused, sweeping the room.

Robin held her breath.

He lifted his radio. "I'm in the cell. Only the doctor and Clover are missing. Nico Robin is still here."

Lucci's voice crackled through. "Bring her here. We'll use her as bait for the other two."

The guard approached, reaching for the shackle.

"Huh," he muttered, noting the unlocked cell. "Guess they really did escape. Don't know why I expected them to lock the door behind them. Looks like your teammates ditched you, Nico Robin. Tossed you aside like trash, huh?"

Robin said nothing. She smiled faintly, forcing her voice soft and weak. "They must've been in a hurry."

The guard knelt, unlocking the shackle.

Her hand closed around the charger.

The second the lock clicked free, she lunged.

She pressed the button.

A jolt of electricity buzzed from the charger into the guard—his body went stiff, then slumped to the ground, twitching slightly. Out cold.

Robin stared at the device in disbelief.

"…You know, Franky," she murmured, brushing hair from her face, "this isn't a laser cannon, but it was good enough."

She reached down, took the guard's rifle, and slung it over her shoulder, then grabbing her belongings and moving quickly toward the exit. That's when she heard the heavy shuffle of footsteps behind her.

"Robin!"

She turned sharply, raising the rifle—then froze.

Dr. Clover came barreling into the room, still wearing the oversized robes, mask now gone, his hair wild and soaked in sweat.

"Dr. Clover!" she gasped.

"Robin!"

They ran to each other, embracing with quick, fierce relief.

"Thank goodness you're alright," Clover breathed.

Robin pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "Where's Law?"

Clover's face tightened. "I was about to ask you the same thing. Last I heard, he was on the run—with Spandam as a hostage. If that's true, then he's somewhere out there."

Robin's eyes narrowed. "He took Spandam?"

"We need to move," Clover said, already turning back toward the hall. "I found a radio that isn't connected to the local network. I've been trying to send a signal out. And I've got a map—coordinates, too. Come on now, we need to keep moving."

Without another word, the two broke into a run—Clover leading the way, Robin close behind.

---

Law ducked around the corner of the facility, dragging a struggling Spandam with him. The hot desert air hit his face like a furnace, and he could hear the sharp crack of gunfire echoing off the metal siding of the compound.

"Over here! I'm over here!" Spandam shrieked. "I'm being held hostage! You idiots better not shoot me!"

Law snarled and cracked the butt of his rifle against Spandam's temple. The man crumpled like wet paper. "Should've done that ten minutes ago," Law muttered.

Still gripping his rifle, Law kept moving, weaving through scattered crates and supply boxes. Bullets pinged off metal behind him, but he never slowed. Ahead, a squat building loomed—some kind of garage. He sprinted toward it, skidding to a halt at the entrance. Inside were several desert vehicles: humvees, buggies, an old jeep. He darted for the nearest one—but a hand suddenly caught his arm.

He spun around, rifle raised—only to freeze when he saw her.

"Robin," he breathed.

She stood there, breathless but steady, Clover beside her in a loose-fitting guard robe. Law dropped the gun and Spandam without hesitation, stepping forward and pulling Robin into a tight embrace.

"You're alright," he said, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "I was worried sick. How are you feeling? Is the poison spreading?"

Robin gave a small shake of her head. "Don't worry about that right now. Did you get the antidote?"

Law clenched his jaw. "No. This jackass didn't have it. Said something about a temple—that it's probably there."

Robin frowned. "A temple? Out here? But there was nothing like that on the satellite scans near the dig site."

Clover perked up. "Wait—did you say temple?" He rifled through his satchel and pulled out a folded, weathered map. "Here, look! It's faint, scribbled in pencil, right next to this rock formation. Doesn't look like much, but someone marked it: 'temple.' This must be what he meant."

"Well," Law said, bending down to haul Spandam's limp body over his shoulder, "what the hell are we waiting for?"

They moved fast, ducking behind vehicles and dodging line-of-sight as they slipped into the garage. Law opened the driver's side of the humvee and cursed. "Shit. It's manual. Does anyone know how to drive stick?"

Clover raised his hands. "Not me. I walk everywhere. Better for your health."

Law shot him a glare. "You're like eighty."

"I'm sixty-two."

Robin stepped forward. "I can drive manual."

Both men blinked at her.

She shrugged. "My roommate's a mechanic. Very passionate. He insisted we all learn. Stickshift's basically a household language at this point."

They scrambled into the vehicle—Robin in the driver's seat, Law riding shotgun, Clover and Spandam in the back. Robin turned the key.

The engine roared to life—accompanied by the unmistakable blare of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper, blasting from the built-in stereo.

Law swore and fumbled for the volume knob. "Turn it down! Turn it—!"

"There! They're in a vehicle!" Kaku's voice rang out across the garage.

Robin smirked, foot already on the gas. "Too late."

She threw the humvee into gear. "Hang on. This might be a bumpy ride."

The humvee jolted over the sand as Robin floored it, hands tight on the wheel and eyes laser-focused on the path ahead—or the total lack of one. She nearly ran over Lucci, Kalifa, and Kaku, but they jumped out of the way. She drove straight into the garage door, Law and Clover holding onto handles for dear life. The humvee easily ripped through it as they entered into the desert, a mess of sun-bleached rock and shifting dunes.

"Are you trying to do their job for them?!" Law shouted, gripping the handle above the door as they went airborne for a moment over a dip.

Behind them, Kalifa and Kaku burst from the facility, already firing at the fleeing humvee. Bullets whizzed past, one cracking the side mirror clean off. Another tore through the back window, shattering glass across Clover's lap.

Clover flinched. "You'd think with how often they're 'protecting history' they'd stop trying to murder historians!"

Robin zigzagged hard, throwing the vehicle into a sharp swerve that made Spandam's unconscious body slide across the back seat.

Kalifa cursed under her breath and took aim again—but the sand kicked up by Robin's tires created a perfect screen, obscuring their shot. Kaku sprinted to the edge of the lot, rifle raised, but Robin took a sudden sharp turn behind a ridge and disappeared from their view.

Kalifa slammed a fist into the hood of a nearby jeep. "Dammit!"

Lucci emerged from the shadows of the building behind them, calm and composed as ever. He watched the trail of dust rising in the distance, then wordlessly walked over to one of the desert vehicles—a low, armored buggy with reinforced tires and a mounted turret in the back.

"I'll handle it," Lucci said, his voice like cold steel as he slid into the driver's seat.

Kaku climbed onto the back of the buggy without hesitation. Kalifa took shotgun, adjusting her tie with a tight scowl.

Lucci started the engine with one hand and floored it. The buggy peeled out from the lot, kicking up dirt as they barreled down the same trail Robin had taken.

The humvee tore across the sand, rocking hard with every bump and dip. Robin's knuckles were white on the wheel, her foot jammed to the floor. The engine roared like a beast under her control, and the tires skidded sideways more than once as she swerved around rocks and dry brush.

Behind them, Lucci's buggy was gaining—sleek, fast, built for speed and hellbent on destruction.

Kalifa was halfway out the passenger window, wind whipping her hair back as she leveled her pistol with practiced precision. Bullets pinged off the back of the humvee, each one rattling in their bones.

Clover ducked. "Are they ever going to run out of ammo?!"

Robin didn't flinch, turning her attention to Law. "Why are you just sitting here? You have a gun—return fire!"

Law gritted his teeth. "Dammit!" He twisted in his seat, throwing open the window and propping the rifle on the frame. The wind yanked at his hair as he squeezed off a few blind shots. The rounds went wide, kicking up sand but missing the buggy entirely.

He ducked back down, breath tight. "It's not working!"

"Well, try harder!" Clover snapped, nearly squashed between Spandam and a jerrycan of water.

Law snarled and rose again, squinting into the sunlight. This time, he didn't aim for the driver. He followed the motion of the tires, tracked the bounce of the wheels—then squeezed the trigger.

CRACK—POP.

The front right tire of Lucci's buggy exploded in a spray of rubber and sand. The vehicle jerked hard to the side, throwing Kalifa off balance and nearly tipping the buggy before Lucci corrected with expert control.

Robin let out a short laugh. "Good aim."

Law smirked, cocking the rifle. "I'm a surgeon. I have steady hands."

"Let's hope you've got steady nerves too," Robin said, her voice smooth but tense as she yanked the wheel. "Because this terrain's only getting worse."

Ahead, the dunes gave way to jagged rock formations and uneven slopes. The kind of place even a well-built vehicle might flip if handled wrong.

Behind them, Lucci didn't stop. Even on three good tires, he was still coming.

---

The dunes finally gave way to cracked, jagged rock, the humvee rattling with every impact. The tires skidded on the uneven surface as Robin swerved around jutting stone outcrops. Behind them, Lucci's half-wrecked buggy kept pace like a hellhound, smoke trailing from the ruined tire.

A loud thud sounded from the back—something hard bouncing its way up through the chaos. A dusty first aid kit skidded to the front, smacking into the dashboard.

"Hey!" Law blinked. "I've been looking for one of these!"

"That's great," Robin said, swerving around a split boulder. "There's water in there too. Would you mind handing me some?"

Clover threw up his hands, half-rising in his seat. "Why are you two so calm right now?! They're still following us! Trafalgar—shoot them some more!"

Law grabbed the rifle again, opened the window, and leaned out—just in time for Kalifa to get another shot off. CRACK! Their rear right tire exploded, and the humvee jolted violently.

Robin fought the wheel, twisting hard to correct. "Hold on!"

The vehicle fishtailed, barely regaining its line, but then—

The rocky stretch ended.

Just ahead: a ravine, deep and wide, yawning like a hungry mouth. And spanning it—a rickety wooden bridge that looked like it had been built by optimism and rope.

Law's stomach dropped. "Oh no no no—"

CRACK!

Kalifa's bullet struck the other rear tire. The humvee jerked again, back end dipping, skidding sideways toward the ravine's edge.

Robin slammed the brakes. The wheels screamed. They kept sliding.

The front tires hit the very lip of the rock—and the humvee teetered, the back rising just slightly, weight shifting forward like a nightmare in slow motion.

"Come on!" Law shouted, flinging open the door. "We need to get out—now!"

Clover scrambled, dragging Spandam's limp body as fast as he could. Robin threw the door open, grabbing the first aid kit and her bag with one hand, rifle slung over her shoulder, and launched herself out just as the vehicle creaked.

The front end dipped—

Then the whole humvee tipped over the edge.

It plummeted nose-first into the ravine below with a thunderous crash, smoke and dust pluming upward.

The three of them rolled away from the ledge, coughing, bruised, but alive.

Robin groaned, shoving the first aid kit into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, "I really liked that car."

Law panted, glancing back at the edge. "I really liked not dying."

Clover just lay there on his back, arms spread. "I'm too old for this."

Behind them, Lucci's buggy skidded to a halt several yards back. He stepped out, eyes sharp, watching the smoke rise from the ravine.

Law was the first to his feet, yanking Robin up by the arm. "Go! Go!" he shouted, pushing her toward the bridge as the sound of Lucci's boots crunching rock echoed behind them.

Clover, already dragging Spandam by the collar, hobbled toward the creaking wooden planks. "Hurry!" he shouted over his shoulder, Spandam's limp body thudding behind him like a sack of poorly made regrets.

Robin and Law scrambled onto the bridge, the weather-worn ropes groaning under the sudden weight. Wind whipped through the ravine, tugging at their clothes and hair, and the wood beneath their feet buckled with every step.

Shots rang out again. Law turned mid-stride, raising his rifle. "Cover me!" he barked.

Robin didn't need the instruction—she was already returning fire, bullets snapping through the air. One caught the stone near Kalifa's head, forcing her to duck.

But Lucci was still advancing. Calm. Focused.

He raised his pistol and took aim—not at them, but at the bridge.

CRACK!

One of the side ropes snapped in a spray of frayed fiber and metal. The bridge pitched violently to one side. Robin screamed as her feet slipped out from under her—and suddenly she was hanging, suspended above the ravine, one hand clutching a shaking plank.

"Robin!" Law dropped his rifle instantly, letting it fall into the abyss below. He dove forward, grabbing her wrist with his good arm, every muscle in his body straining.

Her eyes met his—panicked, but locked in. "Don't let go!"

"I won't!" he gritted out, pulling her up inch by inch, foot braced against the broken edge of the bridge. She swung one arm up, then the other, scrambling onto the boards beside him just as the entire bridge creaked again, threatening to give.

At the far end, Clover had just reached solid ground. He collapsed in a heap, Spandam beside him. He turned back, eyes wide. "Come on! Come on!"

Robin and Law scrambled the last stretch together, feet barely touching the boards before they hurled themselves off the bridge and onto the rock beside Clover.

Behind them, the weakened bridge gave one final groan—then a snap as another rope tore loose, sending the rest of the structure cascading into the ravine in a chaotic, clattering heap.

Gunfire cracked behind them like thunder. Robin ducked instinctively, pressing her back to a jagged boulder as dust and stone exploded nearby. Law dropped beside her, pulling Clover into cover while shielding his own wounded arm.

Robin peeked around the edge of the rock—Lucci was still standing near the edge of the ravine, pistol raised, his expression unreadable as he fired precise, calculated shots into the stone around them. The distance made it harder to hit, but each bullet reminded them they weren't out of danger yet.

"We need to move!" Law barked.

Together, they crouched low and scuttled between stone formations, ducking under natural arches and diving into shadows, the last echoes of gunfire trailing them like ghosts. The rock maze ahead stretched in erratic spires and ridges, just enough to keep them hidden—but it wouldn't last forever.

Back at the cliff's edge, Lucci slowly lowered his pistol, watching the path they'd taken disappear into the stone jungle.

Kaku approached from behind, brushing the dust from his shoulders and reloading a fresh clip into his sidearm. "They're heading toward the temple."

Lucci didn't respond at first. His gaze lingered on the broken bridge, the swirling wind carrying off bits of snapped rope. Then, with the calm certainty of a man already calculating his next move, he turned.

"Then we'll just have to give them a welcome party there." He adjusted the collar of his coat, voice flat as ever. "Come on. Let's go."

Kaku nodded and fell in step beside him. Kalifa, still brushing dirt from her skirt with icy precision, gave the ruins one last look before following.

---

The desert sun was starting its slow descent, casting long amber shadows through the jagged rock formations. The air still held its dry bite, but the worst of the heat had begun to fade. Robin sat on a flattish slab of stone, her canteen in hand, sipping carefully. She'd changed back into her field clothes—cargo pants, a dark tank top, and her utility belt slung low on her hips. The remnants of her dress lay in a small, smoking fire that Clover had just managed to get going. Across from them, Spandam sat slumped against a rock, his hands tied behind his back and ankles bound. His hair was matted with sweat, and his shirt clung to his sides.

He glared at them all with a mixture of panic and fury. "You don't know what you're doing," he spat. "You're just making it worse for yourselves."

A little to the side, Law sat shirtless, his back to a taller rock, the first aid kit open beside him. His face was tense with concentration as he wiped down the bullet wound on his upper arm with an alcohol pad. The sharp scent of antiseptic mingled with the smoke of the fire.

Clover eyed him uneasily. "You sure you don't want help with that?"

"I've stitched up worse," Law muttered, biting the inside of his cheek as he threaded the suture needle. "It's inconvenient. Not dangerous."

He glanced over at Robin, who sat quietly sipping from her canteen, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Are you still feeling it?"

Robin turned to meet his gaze, then gave a slow shake of her head. "It's not getting worse. But it's not improving either."

Law's jaw tightened. "We need to find that temple. Fast. You probably have less than a day—there's a good chance the poison's already affecting your organs."

Clover tossed another strip of scorched fabric into the fire. "We should rest until nightfall, then move under cover of darkness. It's cooler, and we'll avoid the worst of the patrols."

Law finished the last stitch with a tug and a wince, then wiped the blood away with a clean pad. He exhaled through his nose, stood, and turned toward Spandam, who was bound against the base of a rock, still sneering despite the dirt on his face and the dried blood at his temple.

"Alright," Law said, voice flat. "Time for you to talk. Who hired you, and what do they want?"

Spandam laughed, nasal and jittery. "You think I'm just gonna roll over like that? You're a funny man, doctor."

Law's expression didn't change. "My name is Trafalgar Law," he said, crouching to meet Spandam's eye level. "And I'm not a doctor. I'm a surgeon. Which means I know exactly how your body works. I know which organs I can remove while keeping you alive and conscious, writhing in pain."

Robin, still sitting nearby with the canteen in her lap, looked over and added casually, "What's that thing called from Midsommar? Where they cut out your lungs and hang them over your shoulders like wings?"

Law blinked, then gave a small nod. "Oh. The blood eagle."

"That's it," Robin said, thoughtful. "Yeah. He'll do that to you."

Law cracked a grin. "That's morbid as hell. I like it."

Robin shot him a smile back. "You're welcome."

He turned back to Spandam. "Yeah, I'm gonna fucking blood eagle you if you don't talk."

Robin adds on. "He'll do it too. His nickname is 'The Surgeon of Death.'"

Spandam's smirk wavered. He stayed silent—but only for a beat too long.

"You don't believe us?" Law said, pulling a scalpel from the first aid kit and holding it up between two fingers. He stepped forward again, eyes unreadable, and pressed the flat of the blade lightly to Spandam's chest.

"Okay! Okay!" Spandam yelped, flinching away. "Just—stop. I'll tell you everything I know. Just don't—don't do that freaky lung thing!"

Spandam squirmed under Law's gaze, breathing heavily, sweat beading along his brow.

"My employer… they're with the government," he started, voice shaky but gaining momentum as if hoping that spilling everything might spare him. "I don't know who they are exactly, but they've got power. A lot of it. Enough to bring in some of the most elite agents I've ever seen—Lucci, Kalifa, Kaku—they were assigned to me as protection."

Law's eyes narrowed. Robin leaned in slightly, her expression unreadable.

"They have a deep interest in the Void Century," Spandam continued. "They're obsessed with it. Not just with learning about it—they want to own that knowledge. Make sure no one else knows anything but them."

He licked his lips nervously, eyes flicking between them. "Particularly, they're after information about the Great Flood War, the legends surrounding the ancient weapons, and…" He lowered his voice. "Nerona Imu."

At that, Law and Robin exchanged a look. It wasn't surprise—it was confirmation.

"The ruins," Robin murmured.

"Yes," Spandam nodded. "The ones you collapsed. Those ruins were originally connected to the main temple we discovered. They hired me as the lead archaeologist to map them, decode the structure. And now, thanks to you, they're buried beneath tons of sand and debris. It'll take years to re-excavate them again—if ever."

Clover, who had remained quiet at the fire, tossed a final shard of scorched fabric into the flames. "Your employer knew Robin and I would be coming."

Spandam gave a slow nod. "Yes. We needed you both. You're among the very few left who can read Poneglyphic. It was only a matter of time before you came sniffing around something this big."

He shifted again, ropes creaking against stone. "The temple isn't far from here. Just over the next ridge. There's already a team working on it, deep excavation. And inside, we uncovered one of the ancient weapons—I truly thought they were only myths. We don't know what it does yet, but they're working on unlocking its purpose… and how to use it."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "There's a man there. He's the one who gave me the poison for her." He nodded toward Robin. "He'll have the antidote. If it still exists, that's where it is."

Spandam slumped back, eyes wide. "That's it. That's everything I know. I swear."

---

The sky had turned indigo by the time they reached the ridge, the last bands of sunlight stretching gold and purple over the horizon. Wind whispered across the stones as they crested the rise—and there it was.

"This is it," Clover said, voice reverent.

The temple sprawled before them like a secret whispered by the earth. Towering columns and friezes had been carved directly into the rust-colored cliff face, grand and precise. The entrance stood at least three stories tall, flanked by two towering statues—weather-worn and incomplete, but regal, humanoid figures. Their faces had eroded into anonymity, but the details that remained suggested a civilization obsessed with symmetry and symbolism: winding serpents, celestial motifs, and a recurring emblem that looked like the sun.

Flickering work lights dotted the excavation site, casting long shadows. Dozens of workers, some still operating cranes and brushing sediment from carvings, milled about the camp. Tents had been pitched in clean rows, and scaffolding clung to the temple's facade like vines.

Robin's breath caught in her throat. "Look at those reliefs..."

Clover had already pulled out the map and was holding it up against the view. "The contours match exactly. See here—this bend in the gorge? It forms the 'hook' described in the seventh segment. And that," he pointed to a sunken stone platform, "that's must be a ceremonial altar. It aligns with the solstice shadow line. They built this entire complex to map the solar calendar over the ages."

Robin stepped forward, tracing the air in front of her with wide eyes. "This wasn't just a religious site—it was a timekeeping system. And—look, Dr. Clover—the arch over the main entry? It's in three bands. That's the tri-epoch design. Pre Void Century."

Clover gasped, eyes lighting up. "I thought that style was only theoretical! And those sigils at the base… Robin, those are Old Poneglyphic. Pre-canonical!"

Law sighed, folding his arms, clearly not sharing their glee. "That's great. Really. But I have a dying archaeologist on a timer." He yanked the gag down from Spandam's mouth. "Where would the guy with the antidote be?"

Spandam coughed, then said quickly, "Main structure. Back chamber. They called it the Heart of the Temple. He doesn't leave it."

Law nodded, then shoved the gag back into place with zero ceremony. "Thanks."

Spandam rolled his eyes, irritated. But then—his gaze dropped. He froze.

In the back pocket of Law's cargo pants, half-exposed and catching the glint of firelight, was the golden radio.

His eyes widened and his breathing picked up.

And slowly, silently, he started to inch his hands behind him, fingers groping at the ropes, eyes never leaving the radio.

---

They moved like shadows through the outcroppings, weaving between stacks of crates and low scaffolding. Spandam remained bound and gagged, stumbling when Clover tugged the rope around his wrists. The archaeologist shot him no sympathy.

Robin stayed close to the walls, one hand braced against the rock for balance. Her face had paled beneath the desert grime, and a faint tremble had taken hold in her fingers. She didn't say anything—she never complained—but the blood dripping slowly from one nostril was answer enough.

Law noticed. "Robin." He slowed his pace, falling back beside her. "You're getting worse."

"I'm fine," she murmured, breath catching. "Just... focus on the antidote."

He didn't respond right away, just frowned and moved closer, walking half a step behind her now like a silent buffer.

They reached the rear structure of the temple—a high-walled enclosure with a split façade carved into the rock like ancient jaws. In its shadow, floodlights buzzed. Tents had been pitched at the base, and one stood out: larger, cleaner, reinforced at the corners. A faint amber glow shone through the canvas.

Law's jaw tightened as he stared across the excavation site. "Is that where the antidote is?" he asked, eyes fixed on the tent nestled at the base of the temple's steps.

Spandam, still gagged, nodded frantically.

Law adjusted the strap of his rifle and turned to Clover and Robin. "Okay. I'm going. Clover, stay here with Robin and Spandam. Don't let either of them out of your sight."

Robin gave a dry, exhausted chuckle, blood smudged beneath one nostril. "Not exactly in the mood for a jog," she muttered, her shoulder pressed weakly against the rock wall.

Clover clutched his satchel tightly. "Be careful."

Law gave a short nod and peeled away from the group, moving low and silent through the dim, torch-lit spires. He kept to the shadows, ducking behind supply crates and canvas-covered equipment. Every footstep was measured. The murmur of workers and the distant grind of excavation masked his approach.

He was ten feet from the tent flap—barely more than a breath away from reaching for it—when—

"Going somewhere?"

Law froze.

From between two crates stepped Rob Lucci, immaculate even here in the dust and heat. A pistol hung from his fingers like a casual threat, his coat catching the breeze. His eyes were flat, precise. Deadly.

On either side of him, Kaku and Kalifa emerged, fanned out like hounds on command. Silent. Ready.

Lucci reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. It glittered under the moonlight.

"Looking for this?" he asked.

Law's jaw clenched. "The antidote…"

"I was hoping you'd come this way," Lucci said, voice smooth as polished steel. "Saves me the trouble."

For a moment, neither moved. The wind stirred the sand.

"You always this talkative before a fight?" Law asked.

Lucci smiled faintly. "Only when it's a warm-up."

Then, without warning, he holstered the pistol and lifted both hands, flexing them as he rolled his shoulders. "I don't need a gun to deal with some med school student. So, you ready to meet your maker?"

Law smirked, and let his rifle drop to the ground with a solid thud. He raised his hands, settling into a stance. "I could ask you the same thing."

They collided like tectonic plates.

Lucci struck first—fast, brutal, a palm jab aimed straight at Law's ribs. Law dodged by a hair, pivoted, and countered with a sweeping elbow that caught Lucci's jaw, but the assassin barely flinched. He twisted with the momentum, spun, and brought his knee up hard toward Law's stomach.

Law blocked, gritting his teeth as bone met bone. The shock radiated up his arm, but he didn't retreat.

Their blows came fast, fluid—a flurry of strikes, blocks, feints. Lucci moved like a shadow sharpened to a knife edge, every motion honed from years of killing. But Law was no slouch. For every jab Lucci threw, Law answered with precision, his surgeon's instincts lending terrifying clarity to where and how he struck.

Suddenly, Lucci turned his head sharply toward the spires. "Kalifa! Kaku! Find the others. Now."

The two agents vanished without a word, melting into the rock maze.

"No—!" Law barked, trying to move past him—but Lucci intercepted him, a harsh chop slamming across his chest and knocking him back a step.

"Your fight is with me," Lucci said coolly, eyes locked on his. "Don't get distracted."

Law growled, shaking off the blow.

"Remember," Lucci added, flexing his knuckles, "I'm the one with the antidote."

Law's breath hissed through his teeth. "Then I'll just take it off your corpse."

And with that, he launched himself forward again.

---

Meanwhile, tucked in the shadow of a carved archway, Clover crouched beside Robin. She was clearly deteriorating—her shoulders trembled with each breath, sweat clinging to her brow, and her fingers gripped the stone wall in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

"Hang in there, Robin. Just a little longer," Clover whispered, worry etched deep into his features.

Robin raised her hand weakly and pointed past him. "Look… Dr. Clover…"

Not far off, partially hidden behind excavation equipment, loomed a massive stone block. Ancient carvings shimmered faintly under torchlight—etched into its face was the unmistakable script of the Poneglyphs.

"A Poneglyph," he murmured.

"Go… see what it says," she added, voice thin, but resolute.

"Robin…" Clover hesitated, torn. But one look at her determined eyes—despite the pain, the fever, the blood at her nose—silenced his doubt.

He gave a small nod. "Just a minute. I'll be right back."

Clover slipped into the shadows and crept toward the stone, leaving Robin and Spandam alone.

Robin's breaths came shallower now, her hand wiping blood from her upper lip as another cough racked her body. She pressed her back to the stone, trying to stay conscious.

Behind her, Spandam had been inching backward, his movements slow, subtle… desperate. Then, with a sudden jerk, he yanked his wrists free—he'd loosened the ropes. The gag came off with a guttural snarl.

"Spandam—!" Robin reached out instinctively, but he spun and slapped her hard across the face. She crumpled to the ground with a pained gasp, blood on her lip.

"You stupid girl!" he barked, voice wild. "Did you really think I'd just lead you to the antidote? That I'd help you? Pathetic. The antidote—it's with Rob Lucci. Always has been. The government's deadliest assassin. You're never getting it. You're dead."

He stormed over, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her head up. Robin winced, too weak to fight back.

"You know," Spandam hissed, his eyes gleaming with cruelty, "you look so much like your mother. It's uncanny. Tell me, do you know why Nico Olvia never came back to Ohara? Why she never returned after that expedition?"

Robin's lips trembled. "No…"

Spandam leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Because she died. Your mother's not missing. She's been dead for over twenty years."

Robin's eyes widened in horror, but Spandam wasn't done.

"Do you want to know how I know?" he whispered, lips curling into a smile.

"Because I was the one who killed her."

Spandam loomed over her, triumphant, breath ragged with excitement. His grip tightened in her hair, pulling her head back to meet his eyes.

"Now," he sneered, "I have you exactly where I want you. All of you. You think this was about revenge? No. This was about destiny."

His voice grew louder, fevered. "The Cult of Imu will rise again, stronger than ever. And there's nothing any of you can do to stop it. Once we awaken their spirit, they'll need a vessel—one freshly dead. It's in the legends. It's written in stone."

His grin was maniacal now. "As soon as your precious doctor decided to take me hostage, your fates were sealed. Nico Robin, you will bring forth the new world. Through you, Imu shall return. And the world will learn to fear their wrath again."

He leaned in, lips inches from her ear. "I look forward to watching you die… just like I enjoyed watching your mother die."

Robin's whole body trembled—not from fear, but fury. Her breath was shallow, every motion painful, but her mind was sharp, focused.

Her fingers moved slowly, deliberately, down her side—reaching for the utility belt clipped around her waist.

Spandam didn't notice. He was too absorbed in his own delusions, too consumed by power.

Her hand found it.

The solar charger.

With the last of her strength, Robin jammed it against his side and activated the current.

A violent jolt ripped through Spandam's body. He shrieked, spasming as he dropped her and collapsed backward, smoke rising from his shirt.

Robin fell to the stone floor, gasping. Her limbs screamed in protest as she tried to crawl, dragging herself inch by inch across the ground.

"Dr. Clover…" she whispered, blood still trailing from her nose.

She forced herself to her knees, then stumbled to her feet—but her vision swam. Her legs buckled.

And then she fell again, hard.

She didn't move.

---

Clover crouched before the massive stone block, his breath shallow with awe. His fingers traced the ancient etchings carved into its dark surface—poneglyphic writing, deep and complex. He flipped open his notebook, translating line by line, his pen moving feverishly as the story unfolded before him.

"The ruler, Imu, lived for centuries, unaging, untouched by death. A lifespan that defied human nature."

He paused, brow furrowing. The next lines sent a chill down his spine.

"It became known: Imu was no mere ruler, no ordinary being. They were a demon, sent from the pit of hell itself, cloaked in flesh, draped in power."

Clover swallowed hard, scribbling faster.

"The first warrior to rise against them was a god cloaked in flame and freedom—the one they called Nika, the Sun God. Nika weakened Imu, burning the sky with rebellion."

"The second warrior came in Nika's wake. A man named Joyboy, gifted with divine power. He carried the will of the sun. He finished what Nika could not—he defeated Imu."

Clover's pen hesitated, hovering over the page.

"But Imu's spirit, they believed, was not of this world. Not something that could die. So they entombed the body—sealed it within a statue of black obsidian, forged from volcanic flame and sea prism stone. They locked it away with ancient words."

He flipped to a fresh page, breath picking up.

"Only when the inscription carved into the statue is spoken aloud shall the tomb be opened again."

Clover's hand trembled. "That tomb," he whispered, eyes wide, "it must've been the ruins Robin and Law entered back at the dig site. The ones swallowed by the sand."

He turned back to the glyphs.

"Joyboy, they say, died shortly after the battle. His followers believed him to be Nika reborn, the second sun. They buried him in this temple, and sealed his weapon alongside him."

"The Shield of the Sun—an ancient weapon, forged in the age before memory. The only weapon said to possess the power to stand against Imu, should they ever rise again."

Clover looked down. At the base of the poneglyph, below the main text, was a different script—not poneglyphic, but old, almost forgotten. He blinked at it, lips moving slowly as he tried to decipher the strange characters.

"…Mira solari… vincula rupta… recludo…"

As the last word left his mouth, the air shifted.

The massive stone began to glow from within—a soft, pulsing white light that grew brighter, hotter. Clover staggered back, shielding his eyes as cracks webbed across the surface of the poneglyph.

With a deep, resonant crack, the stone shattered—not explosively, but like it had simply given up the ghost.

From the glowing dust and crumbling stone, something emerged.

A massive shield, nearly as tall as Clover himself, resting upright in a shallow recess. Its surface was a deep, polished bronze, glowing faintly with inner light. In the center was a radiant sun motif, ringed with stylized flames, ancient script circling its outer rim.

Clover stared, transfixed. "The Shield of the Sun…" he whispered. "It's real…"

He reached a trembling hand toward it—unaware of the distant thunder now echoing from the direction of the main site, and of how little time they had left.

---

Law ducked beneath Lucci's latest strike, landing a punch to the assassin's side—but barely. Every move was met with another, fast, calculated, brutal. The man was a monster, but Law wasn't backing down.

Then—everything stopped.

A pulse of darkness surged through the chamber, like a wave of ink spilled across the air. The torches snuffed out in an instant. The ancient walls groaned. A cold, unnatural pressure fell over them like a shroud.

From the far end of the chamber, something began to move.

A figure emerged from the void, cloaked in shadow deeper than night, its body indistinct, shifting like smoke—but its eyes burned through the blackness: two glowing red slits that cut through the dark like blades.

Lucci lowered his fists, backing away. "What the hell is that..."

Even Law took a step back, chest rising and falling quickly. "What the fuck..."

From the shadows behind them, Spandam stumbled in—dragging Robin's limp body like a rag doll. Her face was bruised, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, her limbs slack.

"It's really them…" Spandam breathed, eyes wide with manic awe. "It's Imu…"

He raised Robin's body toward the looming shadow.

"Imu! I have brought you a vessel! Be reborn again in human flesh! Take this world back!"

The chamber dropped into an even deeper silence.

The shadow leaned forward. Wisps of black smoke slithered from its form, reaching toward Robin like tendrils. They crept into her mouth, her nose, her eyes—

And then recoiled.

Nothing happened.

Spandam stared, confused. "W-What? No..."

His gaze dropped. Robin's chest was still faintly rising and falling. Barely alive.

"You stupid, good-for-nothing woman!" he shrieked. "Just die already!"

He threw her to the ground and began kicking her, over and over. "You ruin everything! You always ruin—"

"Enough!" Law snarled, lunging for him—but Lucci caught him mid-stride, slamming him into the stone.

Before Lucci could strike again, a grinding, dragging sound echoed through the chamber.

Clover.

He was staggering in, dragging the massive Shield of the Sun behind him. His eyes burned with resolve, his body trembling with effort.

"Stay back!" Lucci snapped.

But Clover lifted the shield high, planting it into the stone floor with a thunderous crack. He raised his hand and spoke the words once more:

Mira solari… vincula rupta… recludo…

A white light exploded from the shield, engulfing the chamber. It pushed back the shadow with a roar like a tidal wave tearing through stone.

The darkness shrieked as the light took form.

A figure stepped from the radiance—a warrior, burning with gold and white, radiant and towering. His face was obscured by flame-like light, his hands wrapped around a gleaming weapon that looked like both spear and sun-ray. He turned to the shadow... and charged.

Imu screamed—a raw, inhuman wail—as the two clashed. Light against dark. Power against power.

The ground split. The walls cracked. The temple began to collapse.

Law kicked Lucci aside and scrambled across the floor to Robin. Spandam lunged for him again, but Law threw him off, punching him square in the face. They grappled, slipping in the dust and rubble, fists flying. Blood smeared across the floor.

Law shoved Spandam off one final time and crawled to Robin's side. Her breath was still shallow—but there.

She was alive.

Law looked around, frantic—then spotted it. His rifle, discarded near the tent flap.

He snatched it up, turned it on Lucci, and snarled, "Give me the fucking antidote!"

Before Lucci could answer, Spandam came from behind and tackled Law again, screaming incoherently. They fought, rolling through rubble and debris.

And then—

Spandam's hand slipped into Law's back pocket and pulled something out.

The gold-plated radio.

Lucci's eyes went wide. "Spandam—NO!"

But it was too late.

Spandam raised the radio to his mouth and shouted, voice shrill and crazed:

"This is Spandam! Do it! Send the strike! Buster Call—NOW! And get me out of here!"

The radio crackled in response. A voice responded: "Roger that. Initiating full strike. Coordinates locked."

A low hum began to rise in the distance—deep and ominous, like the sky itself groaning in fury.

Law lunged, tackling Spandam to the ground and wrenching the golden transponder from his hands. "What the hell did you just do!?"

Just then, Kaku and Kalifa burst into the chamber, skidding to a halt at the chaos before them—light and shadow locked in battle, the temple shaking around them.

Kaku's voice broke the silence. "What is that?!"

Spandam coughed, then laughed—a dry, bitter sound. "You're all finished. That radio was a failsafe—a direct line to a Buster Call. In minutes, this entire ruin is going to be reduced to ash. The government will wipe it all out. And when the dust settles—" he gestured toward the looming shadow, "—Imu will have plenty of bodies to choose from."

Lucci turned slowly, then stormed over. He grabbed Spandam by the collar and yanked him off the ground. "You idiot. You realize you're still here, don't you? You just got all of us killed! They won't spend any time evacuating a pathetic, quack archaeologist like you!"

The smug look on Spandam's face shattered. "W-What?"

Lucci let him drop like dead weight. "Kaku, Kalifa—we're done playing games. Forget the scholars. Forget the kids. I don't care what this is—we're evacuating. Priority one: extract all essential personnel and get to the extraction point now. Spandam triggered the Buster Call."

Law stood frozen for a breath, pulse pounding.

The ancient temple was coming apart at the seams.

Columns split down the middle, raining debris. The carved walls wept dust, and the golden etchings on the floor sparked as ancient energies spiraled wildly out of control. Somewhere deep within, the earth groaned like it was waking from a thousand-year slumber.

Lucci's boots pounded the stone as he turned, cold and efficient. "You two. Now. This place is a tomb."

But before they could vanish into the chaos—

"Don't move!"

Law stumbled forward, bloodied and desperate, rifle raised with both hands and aimed dead at Lucci's head. "Give me the antidote. Now."

Lucci didn't flinch. With a bored flick of his wrist, he pulled a small vial from his coat and lobbed it in a lazy arc. It glittered like treasure through the smoke-filled air. Law caught it with trembling fingers.

"You can try to save her," Lucci said coolly, turning again. "But it won't matter. You've got fifteen minutes before this entire site is turned into ash. At least I won't have to come back to clean up the bodies."

Then—

"LUCCI!"

Spandam came hobbling after him like a half-crushed insect, wild-eyed and bloodied. "Wait! You're not leaving me here! I'm your superior! You have to take me with you!"

Lucci didn't even slow down. He turned, shoved Spandam back so hard he collapsed into a pile of rubble.

"You bastard!" Spandam howled, scrambling to his feet. "You owe me your entire career!"

BANG!

A single shot rang out. Spandam dropped like a sack of bones, screaming, clutching his leg as blood painted the ancient stones beneath him.

"You SHOT me?! You SHOT ME!?"

Lucci holstered his pistol with a soldier's calm. "I don'y know what the hell you brought into this world," he muttered. "But you can stay and see it through."

Kalifa and Kaku exchanged a look—and bolted after him without a word.

Law turned back to Robin.

Her breathing was shallow. Her skin was ghost-pale. Her body unmoving.

"Come on… come on…" Law whispered, pulling the vial open. With trembling hands, he lifted her head, poured the liquid past her lips, coaxing her to swallow.

Behind them, the temple shuddered again.

Clover appeared, dragging the golden shield like a crusader in a final charge. His face was caked in dust, his coat in tatters.

"Law!" he called out over the roar of falling stone. "Is she—?"

"She's alive," Law answered. "Barely."

He looked to the godlike battle playing out before them—light and shadow clashing like titans in the center of the chamber. "What the hell is going on?!"

Clover's eyes were wide with awe. "We are watching," he said, voice shaking, "history repeat."

The temple screamed.

A massive pulse of white light burst forth, engulfing everything. It had won, engulfing the darkness. Law and Clover shielded Robin as the shockwave hurled them backward like dolls in a cyclone. They hit the ground hard, skidding across stone, the light burning bright enough to bleach the world.

Robin's body rose from the earth.

The light curled around her like a protective shroud. Her hair lifted in slow motion, her chest rising… and then—

Her eyes fluttered open, weak and glassy. Her lips barely moved.

"…Law…"

He dropped to her side, heart racing. "Robin…!"

Her body was limp in his arms. She couldn't move, couldn't speak more than a whisper. But she was alive.

"I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe."

Clover stumbled over. "We don't have time for this! The whole damn place is coming down—and the Buster Call is on its way!"

A pitiful cry echoed from behind.

Spandam crawled from the shadows, one leg dragging behind him like a dead limb. "Don't—don't leave me! Please! Don't leave me here!"

Robin turned her head slightly—barely—but her gaze met his.

"You said it yourself," she whispered, voice cracked but steady. "This isn't revenge… it's destiny."

Law helped her to her feet. Clover threw Robin's arm over his shoulders, supporting her as they turned to flee through the collapsing corridors.

Behind them, Spandam's cries rang out one last time. "DAMN YOU, NICO ROBIN! THIS ISN'T OVER! YOU'LL SEE ME AGAIN—MARK MY WORDS!"

---

They burst out of the temple just as the last of the structure gave way behind them. Stone pillars collapsed like dominoes, the great arch at the entrance buckled and crashed into rubble. A massive cloud of dust and smoke swallowed the doorway, chasing them like a living thing.

Law coughed, shielding Robin's body with his own as they stumbled away. Clover clutched the remaining pages of the ancient notes to his chest, his face streaked with dirt and blood.

The night was silent for a moment—eerily silent.

No vehicles. No allies. The field where they'd arrived, once crowded with vans and tactical units, was completely empty.

Clover spun in place, eyes wide.

"They're all gone!"

Law glanced at his watch, jaw tight.

"Four minutes, maybe less."

"Even if we run, we won't make it out of the strike zone," Clover muttered, almost to himself. "We're trapped."

A low rumble began to build above them. The hum turned into a roar.

They looked up. A helicopter cut through the night sky, searchlights blazing, wind from its rotors whipping up debris and tearing through the grass around them.

From the open side door, a man with dramatic, stylized hair leaned down and grabbed a mounted intercom.

"Dr. Clover?" the voice crackled.

Clover raised his hand, yelling against the wind. "Yes! I'm Dr. Clover!"

The man nodded and turned back to the pilot. Moments later, a metal ladder unfurled from the side of the chopper, swinging in the turbulence.

"My name is Iggram!" the voice boomed. "I'm with Senator Nefertari Cobra! We got your SOS call yesterday afternoon—we're here to get you out!"

Law didn't wait. He threw Robin's limp arm around his shoulder and helped her toward the ladder. Clover followed close behind, holding the golden shield fragment under one arm.

The night air was split by another sound—a new one.

Distant engines. Jet engines.

They turned to the horizon and saw them: bomber planes, sleek and black, lining up in formation. Red lights blinked under their wings.

"Oh god," Clover whispered. "They're already in position."

"Climb," Law growled. "Now!"

He helped Robin onto the ladder. Her hands barely held on, her limbs sluggish and heavy, but she was awake enough to grip the rungs.

Clover climbed up behind her, pushing her upward. Law came last, scanning the dark field below them one last time before gripping the ladder and ascending.

The second they were aboard, the helicopter banked hard and pulled away from the temple. Inside, Iggram and a second crewman dragged Robin the rest of the way in, laying her gently on a bench. Clover tumbled in after her, exhausted.

Then came the strike.

A thunderous boom shook the night as the first bombs fell. Fire erupted where the temple once stood, consuming it in a brilliant, terrible blast. The shockwave hit the helicopter like a giant fist, rocking it sideways. Everyone inside held on for dear life.

Law wrapped his arms around Robin to shield her from the jolt. Clover clung to the wall, glasses askew, breathing hard.

Iggram sat down across from them, his hair somehow still perfect despite the chaos.

"Got here just in time," he said, out of breath.

Clover stared out the side window, his gaze fixed on the rising column of smoke and flame below. His voice was strained, barely above a whisper.

"It's all gone. Centuries of knowledge... lost."

Iggram placed a hand gently on his shoulder, offering silent comfort.

"Not all of it. You're still here. And so is she."

Clover nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling in.

Law checked Robin's pulse once more. She was breathing, her eyelids fluttering open just enough to show faint signs of consciousness. Her fingers twitched slightly, catching the fiery glow in the reflection of the glass.

With a weak smile, Robin turned toward Clover, her voice barely audible. "Dr. Clover... I know it's an odd request... but do you think we could get extra credit for this trip?"

Clover blinked in surprise, then let out a short laugh. "You know what? Consider your classes handled. All you'll have left is your thesis. You'll probably graduate by next year." He glanced over at Law with a grin. "And Trafalgar? When we get back, I'll send the grad office the paperwork. Congrats, you've just earned your associate's in history."

---

The guest suite in the Nefertari's overseas estate was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of sheer curtains drifting in the desert breeze. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, golden and soft, pooling on the ivory-tiled floor. The room smelled faintly of mint tea and antiseptic. Robin lay propped up in bed, a porcelain teacup resting in her hands. Though the color had yet to fully return to her face, the shadow had lifted from her expression. She was alive—miraculously so.

The door burst open.

"Robin!" Vivi's voice cracked as she ran in, her blue hair in disarray, eyes wide and glossy.

Robin barely had time to react before Vivi flung herself onto the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Robin let out a soft breath of laughter, wincing as she shifted but returning the hug.

"Vivi…" she murmured, her voice still hoarse.

"I was with my father when he got the emergency radio call from Dr. Clover," Vivi said quickly, voice trembling. "He didn't say where he was, but we traced the signal. I remembered you were going on that research trip—I put it together. I was so scared, Robin. I thought I'd lost you."

Robin touched her hand gently to Vivi's cheek, brushing a tear away with her thumb. "I'm really glad you decided to shadow your father's office this summer. If you hadn't…" She smiled faintly. "I'd be screwed."

Vivi let out a breathy laugh, half relief, half exasperation. "Exactly what kind of school trip was this?!"

The room rippled with tired chuckles. Koza stood near the window, arms crossed, trying to look calm but clearly shaken. Behind him, Iggram, Chaka, and Pell hovered close, still in their dusty desert gear from the retrieval mission. There was a shared exhaustion in the air, but also relief—raw and real.

At the foot of the bed, Law sat in an old armchair, his legs crossed, flipping through x-rays and bloodwork reports like a man trying to make sense of the impossible.

"I've reviewed everything three times," he muttered. "Your bloodwork, the toxin levels, organ scans… there's no internal damage. None. The poison was nearly done circulating, and yet…" He flipped the final page, frowning. "It's not possible. You should be dead."

"Must've been a miracle," Clover said from the couch across the room, a glass of scotch in one hand, bandages peeking from beneath his rolled sleeves. His voice was light, but his eyes—those curious, intelligent eyes—were full of questions.

Robin lowered her gaze into the depths of her tea. For a moment, everything around her faded. Her thoughts drifted back—to that moment. The white light that had enveloped her, not harsh, not cold, but warm. Cradling. Like something ancient and gentle had reached out and wrapped itself around her soul. And then, somewhere in the brightness, a laugh. Light-hearted, boyish. Familiar.

She smiled faintly. "Luffy…"

Vivi blinked. "Luffy?"

Robin didn't elaborate. She just let the memory settle into her chest like a secret.

"Guess there are some things better left unexplained," Clover added, sipping his scotch.

Law closed the file, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin. "Unexplained or not, we still have a problem. If someone finds out we survived, especially after what Spandam pulled… we're walking targets. The people behind that operation won't be pleased."

The room fell quiet again, tension slipping back in like an unwelcome guest.

Then the heavy oak doors creaked open.

Senator Cobra stepped into the room, composed as ever despite the weariness in his eyes. He placed a hand gently on Vivi's shoulder, then looked toward Robin, Clover, and Law with calm authority.

"I think I can help with that," he said.

---

The suite was quieter now. The others had filtered out, leaving behind only the scent of mint tea and the distant hum of desert cicadas. Robin sat upright against a stack of pillows, a fresh cup in her hands. Law remained in the armchair, still flipping a pen restlessly between his fingers. Clover leaned against the windowsill, eyes trained on the courtyard below, and Senator Cobra stood with his arms crossed, framed by the soft afternoon light streaming through gauzy curtains.

The tension broke sharply.

"An NDA?" Law snapped, his voice sharp with disbelief. "Why the hell would we sign an NDA?"

Cobra didn't flinch. He'd expected the reaction. "Because it's the only way I can protect you."

Law shot up from his seat, pacing a few steps. "We nearly died. We watched a man trigger a military strike on his own people to awaken some kind of ancient force. I thought that shit wasn't even real! And then, Robin was nearly killed by a poison engineered by a secret government lab, and your answer is 'sign this and don't talk about it'?"

Cobra exhaled, slow and heavy. "Look, I don't want to know exactly what you saw. The less I know, the better. You think I'm not angry about this? I am. But I'm also still in office. And if even a fraction of what you uncovered is true, then we are all in way over our heads."

He took a step forward, voice tightening. "The government wants to bury this. You three survived something they expected to wipe off the map. I have sway—but not enough to keep you alive if they decide you're a liability. This is the only shield I can offer you. Paper-thin though it may be."

Clover turned from the window, eyes blazing. "So that's it? We keep our mouths shut? After everything we saw? The history in that temple—it changes everything. It was real. Tangible. Undeniable. And you're telling us we have to pretend it never existed?"

Robin set her tea down carefully. Her voice was quieter than the others, but steadier, more cutting in its clarity. "History isn't meant to be hidden. It's meant to be shared. Studied. Preserved."

Cobra looked between the two of them, his expression unreadable. "I agree with you. But I also live in the real world. And in the real world, people who share history like that tend to… disappear."

He sat in the chair opposite Robin and steepled his fingers. "I'm not trying to silence you. I'm trying to buy you time. You want to preserve that history? Then live long enough to find the right way to do it. Not through grandstanding. Not by confronting power with raw truth. By being smart. Patient."

Law muttered something under his breath and resumed pacing, each step sharp and restless against the marble floor. Robin leaned back against the pillows, her eyes distant, focused on something far beyond the walls of the room.

"What do we do now?" Clover asked softly, his voice stripped of its usual conviction.

Cobra met his gaze, calm but heavy with reality. "You heal. You disappear. Just long enough to return from the dig when you were scheduled to. Let the dust settle. I'll do what I can from my side. But if you want to keep your freedom—if you want to stay alive—you'll need to lie low. Act like none of this ever happened."

He opened the folder tucked beneath his arm and laid three slim documents on the nightstand. They looked deceptively plain—just a few pages each, clipped and clean. Standard nondisclosure agreements. Nothing on the surface hinted at the weight they carried. The silence they demanded.

Robin's gaze lingered on them.

Law stopped pacing. He crossed his arms, jaw tight, standing like a statue carved in defiance.

"This is the price of survival, then?" he asked.

Cobra's reply came quiet, solemn. "No. It's the price of living to fight another day."

Outside, the wind stirred. Desert sand whispered across the stone courtyard, swirling like the ghosts of buried time, vanishing into the golden horizon.

Robin reached for the pen.

---

The mood in the grand entryway of the Nefertari estate was thick with tension, the weight of the NDAs they'd all just signed pressing down like a heavy fog. They had agreed to silence, their voices sealed away in exchange for safety. No matter how much they longed to share what they had uncovered, no matter how much the history they had unearthed called to be told, the price of survival was a hidden truth.

Cobra, his calm and steady presence cutting through the quiet, finally spoke. "I've arranged shelter for all of you for the rest of your time here in the country," he said, his voice unwavering. "It's a place far from prying eyes, safe and secure. And I've hired some very elite agents to ensure your safety until your flight home. They might be familiar faces too."

Before anyone could respond, the door to the hallway opened, and two figures stepped into the room. One was tall and broad, the other shorter but just as familiar. Robin's face lit up immediately at the sight of them.

"Sabo! Koala!" she called, her voice full of warmth as she rushed toward them. She didn't hesitate for a second, pulling them both into a tight hug. Sabo and Koala grinned, wrapping their arms around Robin, the relief of being reunited clear in their embrace. It was as if they had been through too much to be apart for long.

Clover, who had been quietly observing from the side, raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Who are these two?" he asked softly, glancing at Robin.

Robin pulled back from the embrace, smiling at the group. "This is Sabo, my roommate Luffy's older brother," she explained with a fond smile. "And this is Koala, his girlfriend."

Law, still processing the sudden shift in energy, stared at the newcomers in surprise. His jaw clenched as the name sunk in. "What?! I have to spend the rest of July locked in a house with Luffy's brother?" he muttered, his irritation rising at the thought of being stuck with someone so unpredictable.

Robin let out a soft laugh, the sound light and freeing, as though the tension of the last few days was finally starting to lift.

Clover looked to him, absolutely baffled. "That's the only thing you're worried about?"

Sabo, ever easygoing, chuckled along with Robin. "Nice to meet you all," he said warmly, his voice genuine. "And don't worry, Koala and I will take good care of you. We've got your backs."

Koala offered the group a reassuring smile, her voice light and confident. "Come on, let's get you settled into your place for the next few weeks. You're all going to love it."

The group fell into step behind her and Sabo, their presence like a balm against the tension still lingering in the air. Familiar faces in unfamiliar territory—just what they needed.

As they walked, Law let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I'm never volunteering for another research trip ever again."

Robin glanced sideways at him, smirking. "Oh? Was all this archaeological mystery, mumbo jumbo too much for you in the end?"

Law returned the smirk, eyes glinting with dry amusement. "No. I told you already—it's a total cliché."

---

The kitchen was buzzing with energy, the clatter of dishes mixing with laughter and conversation as the crew shared dinner around their long, mismatched table. The air smelled of garlic and spices, Sanji's handiwork spread out before them in steaming platters. Usopp was mid-story—something about nearly falling off the roof while trying to fix the satellite dish—when Franky's flip phone suddenly blared its obnoxiously loud, custom ringtone that sounded suspiciously like a remix of his own voice yelling "SUPER!"

Everyone jumped.

Franky snatched the phone from the counter and squinted at the tiny screen. "Guys! I just got a text from Robin!"

Chopper's eyes lit up as he practically bounced in his seat. "Really?!"

Zoro raised an eyebrow, fork halfway to his mouth. "Didn't she say she wouldn't have service at her dig site? How's she texting you from the middle of nowhere?"

Nami was already pulling out her phone. "Wait a second, forget that—I'm FaceTiming her."

The whole group leaned in as Nami hit the call button. The familiar ring filled the kitchen until the screen lit up, and Robin's face came into view.

"Robin!" they all chorused.

Robin smiled behind a pair of dark sunglasses, reclining comfortably on a lounge chair in a sleek black bikini. Sunlight danced off the surface of the pool behind her, and a palm tree swayed lazily in the breeze.

Luffy beamed. "How's the dig? Did you do a bunch of cool Indiana Jones stuff? Fight an ancient evil, run from a giant boulder? Awesome things like that?"

Robin winked. "Totally. They even made me sign an NDA."

Luffy and Chopper gasped in unison. "So cool!"

Usopp rolled his eyes. "She's clearly pulling your leg. It's probably just dusty old research."

Nami's jaw dropped. "You're so tan! I'm jealous. Wait—weren't you supposed to be in the middle of nowhere doing archaeology things? Why are you poolside catching rays like you're on vacation?"

Robin gave a small, elegant shrug. "Well… there were some complications at the site. So we're staying at a resort in the city while we sort things out. We'll be flying back home from here."

Chopper leaned in, nearly knocking heads with Brook. "So are you coming home early?!"

Robin shook her head gently. "No, I'll still be back in August. Sorry, Chopper."

Before anyone else could speak, Luffy squinted at the screen. "Wait… is that Traffy with you?!"

The camera shifted slightly—and sure enough, there was Law lounging beside her in a chair, shirtless and reading a book. His tattoos caught the sunlight, and his swim trunks sat low on his hips. Without looking up, he muttered something inaudible and turned the page.

Luffy grinned. "You didn't tell me he went with you! Hi, Traffy!"

Law didn't respond, though a subtle twitch of his eyebrow suggested he heard.

Robin chuckled. "Oh—Nami," she added, turning her attention back to the screen. "Happy belated birthday."

Nami blinked, then smiled, clearly touched. "You know… it's two weeks late, but I'll take it. Thanks!"

"Of course," Robin said, sipping from a tall glass adorned with a tiny umbrella. "I'll bring you something from the gift shop. How was it, by the way? Fun?"

Nami sighed dramatically. "It's… a long story. I'll fill you in when you're back."

Robin set the glass down and let out a quiet, amused breath. "Well," she said gently, "I'll let you all go. Looks like you're in the middle of dinner."

"Yeah, we just sat down," Nami replied, angling the phone to give Robin a better view of the group—plates half-finished, chopsticks and forks scattered around, and the warm hum of shared conversation and food.

"I just wanted to let you know I'm doing well," Robin continued, her tone soft, but her eyes carrying a deeper warmth.

The group nodded and smiled, relieved. Tanned and relaxed, Robin looked far from the dusty, grueling work they imagined—but that, in itself, was comforting.

Nami began to lower the phone, but Robin's voice caught them again.

"One last thing," she said, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable. She smiled—genuine, radiant, and filled with affection. "I miss you all. I can't wait to see you again."

A pause.

Then—

"ROBINNNN!" Franky wailed, dropping his fork and flinging one arm over his face. "YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT OUTTA NOWHERE!"

Chopper melted, little fists at his chest, tears already forming. "That was so sweet—! Robin! I miss you too!"

Zoro looked down at his plate, grumbling under his breath. "Tch… damn dusty in here or something…"

Usopp reached across the table and smacked Franky lightly on the back. "Pull yourself together—okay, but yeah, I miss her too."

Sanji had both hands over his heart like he'd been struck by lightning. "Robin-swan… I would swim across the ocean for you…"

Brook dabbed at his eyes with a napkin. "Yohoho… I'm not even alive and I still feel that…"

Jinbe gave a solemn, fatherly nod.

Even Nami, who'd tried to keep it together, blinked away the sting in her eyes, her smile warm and full.

And then, as if rehearsed—though it wasn't—they all burst out together, loud and sincere, their voices echoing through the kitchen:

"WE MISS YOU TOO, ROBIN!"

On the screen, Robin laughed, covering her mouth as her eyes crinkled at the corners—genuinely touched. For just a moment, despite the distance, despite the screens and time zones and the fact she was on a different continent, it felt like she was right there with them.

It felt like home.

---

The next day. Late afternoon. The house buzzed with energy—the low thump of bass from a speaker in the kitchen, the smell of someone's cologne wafting through the hallway, and the familiar chaos of everyone trying to get ready at once.

Shoes were being kicked on, jackets pulled from hooks, the sound of blow dryers and chatter overlapping. Everyone was headed to one place: Sanji's restaurant, finally opening after the month of prep, permits, and mysterious business negotiations. Tonight wasn't just about food—it was also a show.

"Just a minute, dear!" Sanji's voice rang out from the upstairs bathroom, slightly muffled by steam.

Pudding stood just inside the front door, her glossy lipstick perfect, arms folded playfully across her chest. She wore a soft lavender dress with a sweetheart neckline, and her heels clicked lightly on the hardwood. "You better not be gelling your hair again," she called, "we're already late!"

"I'm crafting a look, Pudding, not rushing out the door like some heathen," Sanji shot back.

In the living room, Usopp was slouched on the couch in a loose cardigan and worn jeans, his phone in hand. Luffy sat cross-legged beside him, bright shirt unbuttoned over a tank top, a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth. They were the picture of casual.

Usopp looked up. "Man… I wish Robin was here. But hey, now that she's got service again, we can spam her with pics."

Luffy's eyes flicked to the side, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. She'll wanna see everything."

Franky strode in from the garage, wiping his hands with a rag, his outfit a bold floral print with gold chains layered over it. "Yo, curlybrow," he said, peering toward the stairs, "you seriously don't know who these Kamas are? Why'd you sign a contract with them for a whole year if you don't even know their deal?"

Sanji emerged right on cue—shirt crisp, sleeves rolled up, rings on his fingers, hair perfectly styled to the side. "I told you," he said, adjusting his collar with smug precision. "It was either sign the contract, or keep dealing with Big Mom trying to micromanage the joint. She wanted a show, I gave her a show. Tonight's the debut."

"So," Franky said, crossing his arms, "you're just gonna wing it in front of half the city?"

Sanji grinned. "Of course. What could possibly go wrong?"

At that moment, the hallway filled with the soft click of sandals.

Nami emerged from her room, pausing just long enough in the doorway for every eye to turn her way.

She wore a flowing, light blue maxi skirt that swayed with her every step and a worn-in Chapell Roan tee knotted at the waist. Her long auburn hair was curled into loose waves, and she carried a designer handbag over one shoulder like it was nothing. She had on soft, natural-looking makeup—just a hint of gloss, mascara, and bronzer that highlighted her sun-kissed skin.

Zoro, who'd been leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, glanced up and grunted. "Took long enough."

Jinbe, in a clean button-down and dress slacks, gave her a kind nod. "Nami, you finally ready?"

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah. I am. But…" she trailed off, tightening her grip on her bag, "you guys can go on ahead."

Chopper, who was adjusting the tiny bowtie on his button-up shirt, blinked. "What? I thought we were all gonna go together!"

"I know," Nami said, rubbing the back of her neck, sheepish. "I just… I have another ride."

Brook, who was tying a pastel scarf around his neck in front of a mirror, looked up. "Oh? Who?"

There was a beat of hesitation, her eyes flicking downward.

"…Kidd."

Silence dropped over the room like a weight.

Then: "KIDD?!" came the collective response—everyone except Luffy and Zoro.

Sanji stepped back like someone had slapped him. "Kidd?! I thought you said matching with him on Tinder was a mistake! Why would you go out with him again?!"

"Will you all cut it out?" Nami snapped, eyes flashing. She drew in a breath and steadied herself. "I took some time to think about it. That police officer… he was right. Kidd did save my life. I owe him at least… a real date. One without hospital trips or jail time involved."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Chopper gasped, "Aw, that's kinda romantic," and rushed to hug her. "Good luck!"

Brook twirled his scarf. "Ooh, first date at a jazz fusion supper club. Classy."

Usopp gave her an exaggerated wink. "You better text us the moment you need a dramatic rescue, though."

Franky clapped her on the back, "Go get 'em, money-girl."

Pudding looped her arm around Nami's. "I think it's sweet. Hopefully our restaurant makes for a memorable first date."

Sanji, meanwhile, had gone dramatically pale, slumping into the nearest kitchen chair. "This is betrayal," he muttered to himself. "High treason. She chose him over me…"

Luffy still hadn't said a word.

He sat on the couch, arms crossed, chewing slowly on the end of his candy stick, his eyes unreadable.

Zoro glanced at him, brow furrowing. He then walked over and elbowed him gently. "Oi. You good?"

Luffy looked up. His face was neutral—but his voice was just a little too cheerful.

"Yeah. I'm good." Luffy stretched, cracking his neck with a casual roll of his shoulders. "C'mon. Let's get going. I'm starving."

That was the cue.

The group sprang into motion—grabbing keys, slipping on jackets, arguing over playlists. Chopper darted ahead, already shouting, "Shotgun! I called it!"

Outside, a steel gray Mustang pulled up to the curb with a low, throaty purr. Kidd sat in the driver's seat, the door swung open, one boot planted on the pavement, the other resting casually inside. His signature scowl had softened into something almost... patient.

Nami peeked out the door and smiled. "He's here." She waved a little, already halfway out. "Okay, see you guys soon!"

"Bye, Nami! Try not to die in the car ride!" Usopp hollered after her.

She laughed under her breath, then took a steadying breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped outside.

Inside, Luffy lingered by the front door, his fingers curled loosely around the edge of the frame. His eyes tracked her every step as she made her way to the Mustang.

Kidd climbed out fully, walking around to the passenger side and pulling the door open for her with surprising ease. Nami said something—too quiet to hear—but it made Kidd smirk.

The car door shut.

The engine growled.

And then they were gone.

Luffy stood there a moment longer than the rest—just a quiet beat—before turning on his heel and heading toward the car with the others, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

---

By the time they parked near the harbor, the sun had started to dip, casting gold and pink streaks across the water. The group piled out of their cars, one by one, and slowly made their way toward the docks.

There it was—Sanji's restaurant.

The building sat proudly at the edge of the pier, modern and elegant, with soft amber lights glowing through wide, sea-facing windows. The name "The All Blue" was engraved above the entrance in delicate, looping gold script, shimmering in the evening light. A blue carpet stretched down the dock leading up to the front, flanked by potted palms and rope lanterns.

And people. So many people.

A crowd had gathered, all dressed for the occasion. Zeff stood front and center, arms crossed with a rare, proud smirk under his thick mustache. Behind him were the old Baratie crew—Patty, Carne, and the rest, loud as ever. On the opposite side, Big Mom herself towered like a gilded mountain in a floral-print dress, surrounded by a horde of her family, each of them talking, shouting, or eating something.

Near the front, Shirahoshi stood tall and graceful in a pale blue sundress, surrounded by her family. Camie bounced on her heels nearby, waving excitedly when she spotted Luffy and the others. More familiar faces—friends from town, former classmates, and even the infamous Morgans, dressed like a walking press pass, was front and center with his camera crew, sniffing out headlines.

Sanji stood by the ribbon, dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit, a white handkerchief peeking from the pocket. His arm was linked with Pudding, who looked radiant in her lavender dress, her hair swept to one side in polished waves. In their joined hands, they held a pair of gold-handled scissors.

"Ready?" Sanji asked her, grinning.

Pudding smiled back, nervous but glowing. "Let's do it."

The scissors snapped clean through the ribbon.

A cheer erupted from the crowd. Applause echoed over the waves, cameras flashed, and champagne corks popped.

Sanji, ever the showman, dipped Pudding slightly at the waist for the press. She turned to smile—

And promptly passed out cold in his arms.

"Pudding!" Sanji caught her effortlessly, unfazed, as if this had happened before.

Across the dock, her family groaned.

"Again?" one of her sisters sighed.

"Better than crying and shooting people this time," another muttered.

Laughter bubbled up in the crowd as Sanji simply chuckled and adjusted his hold on her, still posing for the flashing cameras like a pro.

Then the double doors swung open, and everyone began filtering inside.

---

The interior of The All Blue was stunning.

A gentle fusion of coastal charm and modern elegance, the restaurant glowed with warm lighting and soft jazz playing through hidden speakers. The walls were paneled with deep navy and seafoam accents, with whitewashed driftwood beams stretching overhead. The floors gleamed, polished dark wood that echoed softly under dress shoes and heels.

Tables were arranged in tiered levels that sloped gently toward massive glass windows overlooking the ocean. Each table was set with crisp linen, golden cutlery, and delicate blue crystal water glasses. Along the back wall was an open kitchen, framed by an arched pass where chefs could be seen plating dishes with a flourish. Behind it, a massive mural had been painted—an artist's rendition of the legendary "All Blue" itself, with fish from all seas swimming in harmony.

In the center of the space was a small stage, elegant and minimal, set for the evening's live show. A baby grand piano gleamed nearby.

Every detail had been considered—nautical motifs woven subtly into the decor, the scent of saffron, seared seafood, and freshly baked bread drifting through the air.

Zoro let out a low whistle.

"This place is fancy."

Franky adjusted his sunglasses. "Super fancy."

"Sanji really did all this?" Chopper whispered, wide-eyed.

Usopp nudged Luffy. "You think the food's gonna live up to all this hype?"

Luffy's stomach growled audibly. "It better."

---

Nami sat across from Kidd at a small, elegantly set table near the window, her fingers lightly brushing the rim of her water glass. Candles flickered gently between them, casting warm light on the white tablecloth and the glint of silverware.

She glanced around the room—at the women in cocktail dresses and men in pressed suits, the glitter of jewelry, the sweep of gowns.

"I should've dressed up more," she murmured, tugging lightly at the hem of her skirt. "It's opening night. I should've known better, but…" She let out a sheepish laugh. "I didn't expect this many people."

Kidd, already leaning back with his arm hooked over the back of his chair, gave her a look. "Relax." He gestured vaguely with one hand. "You look nice."

She blinked at him. "You're not just saying that to shut me up?"

He smirked, sipping his water. "No. I'd just say 'shut up' if I wanted you to shut up."

Nami rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.

The room dimmed slightly, and soft music played as the stage lights came on. Everyone turned their heads as Sanji and Pudding stepped up onto the small central stage—now both dressed in crisp white chef's jackets, their hair pulled back neatly, radiating energy and pride.

Sanji took the mic, his voice smooth and full of charm. "Ladies, gentlemen —especially the ladies—thank you for being here tonight. I can't tell you what it means to see so many of you here on opening night."

There was a brief cheer and applause, which Sanji paused to let settle.

Pudding took over, smiling brightly. "We've worked so hard on this, and we're honored to finally share our vision of The All Blue with you. Tonight's menu is something special."

Sanji held up a small card, which had been handed to each table. "To start, we've prepared a trio of amuse-bouche featuring sea urchin tartlets, smoked scallop crostini, and marinated citrus octopus. Each is paired with a chilled white—our sommelier recommends a sauvignon blanc with floral notes and just enough acidity to complement the seafood."

He winked as a line of servers began emerging from the kitchen, trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres balanced on their palms. "You'll get a taste of both food and wine shortly."

Pudding continued, her voice light and melodic. "Dinner will follow soon after—don't worry, there's plenty. And after the meal... we have a show planned."

Another round of applause. Laughter. The crowd was already buzzing with anticipation.

Sanji smiled, placing a hand over his heart. "We hope this night is one you remember."

Then they both gave a small bow and exited the stage, hands brushing as they passed back through the kitchen doors.

At Nami and Kidd's table, a waiter appeared with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and a pair of glasses filled with chilled white wine. Nami reached for a scallop crostini, her posture relaxing slightly as she caught the scent.

"Okay," she said, lifting her glass. "Maybe this date isn't going to be a disaster after all."

Kidd clinked his glass against hers. "Give it time."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she was smiling again.

---

Back at their table—larger and round, set near the back with a perfect view of the stage—Luffy was already three hors d'oeuvres deep, inhaling the delicate bites with no intention of slowing down.

"Luffy, slow down!" Usopp hissed, swatting at his arm. "These aren't just some random snacks Sanji makes when he's hungover at home. You're supposed to savor these. And pair them with wine!"

The whole table laughed.

Brook chuckled into his glass. "Yohoho, it's a wine pairing, not a speed run!"

Chopper was carefully nibbling on the octopus tartlet, eyes wide. "I didn't even know food could taste like this."

But Luffy's eyes drifted. Across the candlelit room, he spotted Nami, seated across Kidd, mid-laugh, her head tilted back just slightly. Kidd leaned in, grinning—relaxed in a way Luffy had never seen him. Something cold settled in Luffy's chest.

He frowned, voice low but firm. "Nami should be at our table. This is Sanji's big night. We're supposed to be spending it together."

Zoro didn't even look up from his wine glass. "Nah. Keep the witch and Kidd over there. I don't wanna third wheel. Or…" He counted silently on his fingers. "Seventh wheel? Whatever. Doesn't matter."

Brook adjusted his tie. "Yeah, Luffy, she's on a date. Let her have her privacy. Dates are delicate. Like soufflés."

Usopp squinted suspiciously across the table. "Franky, why aren't you stalking her like you did when I went on that date with Kaya?"

Franky sipped his wine with a knowing shrug. "Because Nami's gone on dates before. Plus, if Kidd was giving her all the signs he wanted to kiss—she wouldn't panic like you did. She'd kiss him."

Luffy choked.

No warning. Just a full-body jerk and a garbled gckkk! as he slammed both hands on the table, eyes wide.

Chopper screamed, "AH! LUFFY! YOU NEED A DOCTOR!"

Usopp grabbed Chopper by the shoulders and shook him, "YOU'RE THE DOCTOR!"

Before anyone else could react, Jinbe calmly stood, stepped behind Luffy, and wrapped his massive arms around his torso. With one swift movement, he gave the Heimlich.

A single, very expensive sea urchin tartlet shot out of Luffy's mouth and hit Zoro's wine glass with a wet plop.

Zoro stared at it. "...I was drinking that."

Luffy gasped and coughed, pounding his chest. "I'm fine! I'm fine!"

Brook tilted his skull thoughtfully. "Well. At least it wasn't a bone this time."

Jinbe clapped Luffy on the back with a grin. "Chew next time."

The table erupted into relieved laughter. Luffy managed a weak smile, but his eyes flicked again—back to Nami, to her dress, to her laugh. And for a second, the noise at their table faded behind the buzz in his head.

"MY DARLING, IS THAT YOU?"

The voice rang out like a bell—rich, dramatic, unmistakably poised to command attention.

Every head in the restaurant turned as the double doors swung open.

There she was.

Boa Hancock strode into the All Blue like she owned it. Which, depending on how much she'd invested in Sanji's dream, she might as well have. Cameras flashed as her heels clicked across the floor—she didn't even flinch. She was dressed in a deep wine colored dress that accentuated her hourglass figure. A deep v-cut showed off her voluputuous breasts, and a slit up the side showed her long legs.. Gold chains layered delicately around her neck, catching the low light as she moved. Her black hair was slicked back into a glossy, waist-length ponytail that swayed with every step.

Behind her, her sisters followed—Marigold in tailored cargo pants and a blazer with too many pins, Sandersonia in a wild, flowing jumpsuit with abstract patterns. Both looked like bodyguards next to her.

But Hancock didn't notice anyone but Luffy. She glided past diners, waving graciously, blowing a kiss to Morgans' camera, until she stopped at their table. Specifically, in front of Luffy.

"My love," she said, resting a manicured hand over her chest, "I didn't think you'd be here. Fate is generous tonight."

Luffy blinked. "Oh. Hey Hancock."

Usopp choked on his wine.

Zoro muttered, "Here we go."

Brook sat straighter. "Mademoiselle Hancock, you are absolutely glowing tonight."

She barely acknowledged anyone else at the table, her eyes fixed solely on Luffy. "Have you eaten, my darling? You look absolutely famished."

Chopper leaned toward Usopp and whispered, "He just choked. Like, literally a minute ago."

Jinbe offered Hancock a polite nod. "Good to see you, Miss Hancock."

Only then did Hancock glance around at the others with the kind of breezy smile that looked polite on the surface but carried the unmistakable air of someone silently asking, And why are you still here?

"Are these your friends?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to the table.

"Yeah!" Luffy grinned. "They're also my roommates."

"What brings you here?" Jinbe asked, curiously.

Sandersonia stepped forward, her expression casual. "There's a girl doing weather tech work at our estate right now. Said her friend and roommate Sanji was a sous chef at the Baratie. Then we heard some buzz that he and one of Big Mom's daughters were opening a restaurant together. Figured we'd come show support."

Marigold chimed in, "Yeah, and we all really like Nami! Thought we'd help out her friend with some of Hancock's publicity. It's the least we could do after everything she's done for us."

Usopp blinked, confused. "Wait… you guys know Nami?"

Marigold raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Do you?"

Luffy beamed, completely unaware of the growing tension in the room. "Of course! Nami's one of my best friends. She's also my roommate!"

As he said it, Hancock—who had just plucked a champagne flute from a passing waiter—tightened her grip a second too long.

The glass shattered in her hand.

Everyone at the table jolted.

"Huh?!" Sandersonia and Marigold exclaimed at the same time, both turning toward her.

Luffy, still cheerful, pointed across the room. "She's actually over there. But she's on a date right now. So we're not supposed to bother them or whatever. It's dumb."

The silence that followed was louder than the glass.

At the other end of the restaurant, Nami had just taken a sip of wine when she caught the tail end of Luffy's voice cutting through the background chatter.

"She's actually over there. But she's on a date right now."

The next second, she spat the wine right back into her glass.

Kidd leaned back, blinking in confusion. "The hell?" He turned to see what had caught Luffy's attention, narrowing his eyes. "Wait... is that Boa Hancock? Why's she talking to Luffy like they're friends or something?"

Nami didn't answer, too busy dabbing at her dress with a napkin, her face flushed. "Of all the people to walk in tonight…" she muttered under her breath.

Luffy, oblivious to the tension, kept calling out and waving energetically. "Oh, I think she heard us! Hey, Nami! Why didn't you tell me you knew Hancock?"

Nami immediately grabbed the menu and tried to hide behind it, her embarrassment written all over her face. Kidd rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp scoff. "Does he ever shut up? Does he even realize he's in a restaurant right now? Even I have better manners than that moron."

Meanwhile, at the other table, Hancock had squared her shoulders and was already striding forward, her heels clicking sharply on the floor, an air of determination in every step.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice syrupy yet intense, a strange mix of sweetness and command. "I'd like to meet this roommate—"

Before she could take more than a few steps, Sonia and Marigold scrambled after her, grabbing her by both arms.

"Hang on, sis! You're jumping to conclusions!" Sonia hissed, trying to pull Hancock back with all the subtlety she could muster in six-inch heels.

"Yeah!" Marigold added in a low, almost whispered tone. "She's literally on a date with someone else right now! You don't even know what's going on! Plus, the press is here—don't do anything rash. It'll be terrible for your image!"

The flashes of cameras were becoming more frequent as waiters carried out trays of appetizers. A few journalists had turned their attention to the striking model, their curiosity piqued by the drama unfolding in front of them.

Hancock's jaw tightened. "I'm not going to cause a scene," she said with a smile that was a little too sweet, a little too rehearsed. "I just want to say hello."

Sonia exchanged a glance with Marigold, both clearly skeptical. "This is definitely a scene waiting to happen," Sonia muttered under her breath.

Marigold smirked, "You're saying hello with your murder face on."

Across the room, Kidd continued to observe, utterly baffled. "She's gonna come over here, isn't she?" he muttered, still processing the situation.

Nami sighed, her hand resting on her face in frustration. "Yup."

Kidd nodded, leaning back and picking up his wine glass. "Cool, cool," he said with a wry smile. "Just checking."

Hancock's heels clicked against the floor with precision as she approached Nami's table. Her expression was tight with resolve, though a flicker of something darker passed through her eyes as she finally looked down at Nami.

"Hello, Nami," Hancock growled, her voice smooth but laced with a distinct bite.

Nami's eyes widened for a moment, and she quickly composed herself. She looked up with a bright smile, masking the nervousness that had threatened to take over earlier. "Oh! Hi, Hancock, you look stunning tonight!" she exclaimed. But then, her eyes dropped to Hancock's feet, and her smile shifted into something more genuine. "Um… are those Louboutins So Kate pumps? They're gorgeous!"

Hancock's lips curled slightly, pleased by the compliment. "Oh, yes they are." She raised an eyebrow, her gaze turning calculating. "Wait, your handbag— is that vintage Dior?"

Nami, a little caught off guard, picked up her bag and smiled proudly. "Oh, yeah, it is."

Hancock's eyes lit up with a renewed interest. "Can I see it?"

Nami hesitated for a brief moment, but then nodded, holding out the bag. "Yeah, knock yourself out."

Hancock took it delicately, inspecting it with a practiced eye. "It's stunning… Where did you find it?"

Nami's pride swelled as she casually shrugged. "A thrift store, actually. They didn't know it was Dior, I got it for like a hundred berries."

Hancock's eyes went wide in disbelief. "Only a hundred? You're kidding me." She held the bag up to the light as if inspecting some rare treasure. Then, almost in an instant, she blinked and seemed to snap back to reality. The next thing Nami knew, the bag was tossed back at her with a surprising amount of force.

"Wait a second!" Hancock's eyes narrowed, her voice turning sharp and icy as she pointed a finger at Nami. "Don't try to distract me! Why didn't you tell me you live with my beloved? How dare you try to play the mistress! You succubus tramp!"

Nami, utterly stunned by the sudden outburst, clutched her vintage Dior bag, trying to steady herself. "What…? What are you talking about?" she stammered, her mind racing to make sense of the unexpected aggression.

Hancock stood tall, hands firmly placed on her hips, her gaze cold and possessive. "You dare hide this from me?" she hissed, her voice laced with venom. "I've opened my home to you, shared the secrets of my dermatologist to help you get rid of those… disgusting scars on your arm. I even allowed your sister to relax at my estate, and this is how you repay me? By being nothing more than a vixen, trying to worm your way into my beloved's heart!"

Hancock slammed her hands down on the table, her voice trembling with frustration and hurt. "I trusted you! I... I wanted to be your friend!"

Nami could see the tears starting to well in Hancock's eyes, and her heart softened despite the confusion.

"Hancock…" Nami said softly, her voice sincere. "I want to be your friend too! You're such a strong woman, so confident, so smart, and—"

"Then tell me!" Hancock interrupted, her voice growing frantic. "Tell me you aren't trying to steal the man I love from me! Tell me you're just friends! Tell me you don't see him like that!"

There was a heavy silence that hung in the air, the tension thick enough to cut through. Nami's face turned a deep shade of red as she stammered, glancing nervously from Kidd to Luffy and then back to Hancock. She was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure how to respond without making the situation worse.

Before Nami could say anything else, Luffy stood up suddenly, his voice calm but firm. "Hancock. That's enough." He looked her in the eyes, his expression serious. "Nami and I are just friends. That's it. And I already told you, I'm not gonna marry you, like, a gazillion times. So quit being mean and saying all those bad things about her."

Usopp muttered under his breath, "Luffy…"

Hancock took a deep breath, her anger simmering down for just a moment, before she straightened up, putting on her famous, poised smile. "Very well," she said coldly, preparing to walk away with her usual dramatic flair.

Sonia and Marigold exchanged looks. Sonia whispered, "She's gonna do it, isn't she?"

Marigold sighed, "Most definitely."

Hancock turned her sharp gaze back to Nami, pointing at her with an air of superiority, as if looking down on her from an impossible height. "For withholding this information from me, I don't want to hear a peep from you while you work on the system at my house. And once you're done, I never want to see you again!"

The words hit like a slap, and Nami recoiled, her face frozen in shock. Hancock turned to leave, but not before casting one final, fleeting sad glance at Nami.

Marigold, looking apologetic but still annoyed, called out, "But sis, our reservation…"

Hancock waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go home."

And with that, Hancock and her sisters left, their heels clicking sharply against the floor as they made their exit. The room fell silent for a brief moment before the conversations slowly resumed.

Nami and Luffy made brief eye contact, the weight of the situation heavy between them. Luffy quickly broke the gaze, looking down at the table as he sank back into his seat with a deep sigh. Nami, still reeling from the encounter, folded her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say or do.

Just then, Sanji and Pudding emerged from the kitchen, a trail of waiters behind them, each carrying exquisite platters with silver domes. A hush fell over the room as Sanji grinned, his eyes alight with excitement.

"The main dish is finally ready!" Pudding announced, her voice carrying through the room.

With a flourish, the waiters lifted the domes, revealing a stunning display of food: perfectly seared fish, vibrant vegetables, delicate sauces drizzled over the plating in intricate patterns. The aroma was mouthwatering, and the sight of it had everyone's attention.

Pudding continued, "This is a luxurious pairing of pan-seared black cod with a saffron beurre blanc sauce, accompanied by wild rice and roasted root vegetables. A perfect complement to a crisp, dry white wine—Chablis—its minerality will enhance the delicate flavors of the cod and the richness of the sauce."

Sanji nodded, leaning into the moment. "Shortly after dinner is served, our entertainment will arrive!" he added with a wink.

The room murmured in curiosity. A few patrons leaned in, whispering to each other.

Katakuri, sitting with his arms crossed, glanced around with an unimpressed expression. "Was that not the show?" he muttered under his breath.

Big Mom laughed heartily, taking a sip of wine. "Oh, Sanji, you really outdid yourself with the entertainment!" she boomed, clearly delighted.

Meanwhile, back at Luffy's table, Zoro gave a long, drawn-out sigh, his hand swiping across the table to shove aside his wine glass. The glass still had a half-choked-up hor d'oeuvre stuck in it from Luffy's earlier antics.

"Fuck this wine shit," Zoro muttered under his breath. "I need liquor."

---

Nami picked at her cod with her fork, finally taking a bite and groaning softly—half from the exquisite flavor, half from frustration. She set her utensils down and leaned her head against one hand.

"I'm so sorry," she said, glancing at Kidd with an exhausted look. "Ugh, why can't we just have one normal goddamn date? We've gone two for two of something weird happening."

Kidd stabbed a chunk of fish, chewed it with a scowl, and shrugged. "Eh. I don't know what you expected, you live that guy. He's a magnet for weird shit."

Nami gave him a look. "Hey. Not helping."

Kidd raised his hands in surrender, then jabbed his fork in the air dramatically. "Alright, alright. But come on—Boa Hancock crashing in like a pissed-off goddess? That was practically a telenovela."

"That was a telenovela," Nami muttered into her wine glass before taking a sip.

Kidd chuckled, the sharp edges of his irritation dulling. "Still—this fish slaps. Credit where it's due."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled faintly. "Yeah, Sanji outdid himself."

A beat passed, the buzz of the restaurant slowly returning to normal around them. Nami finally looked across the table, more sincerely this time. "You sure you're okay? That was… kind of a lot."

Kidd smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Nami. On our last date—if you can even call it that—I went to jail. You think this rattles me?"

Nami snorted, the tension melting from her shoulders as she picked her fork back up. "Okay, point taken."

She sipped her wine, then tilted her head. "By the way, how did your court hearing go?"

"Six months of community service," Kidd said flatly. "Honestly would've preferred doing time."

"Oh? So you're anti-charity now?" she teased.

He rolled his eyes, and she laughed again, warmer this time.

A beat passed, then Nami leaned in slightly. "So, Kidd… did you know I lived with Luffy before that night at the fundraiser, or...?"

"I knew," he admitted with a sigh. "I saw you at the soccer games. Always thought you were hot."

As he said it, his thoughts drifted—back to the end of Luffy's first game.

The boys' locker room was alive with post-game chatter. Kidd sat on the bench beside Killer, while the rest of the team filed in: Drake, Law, Luffy, Apoo, Cavendish, and Bartolomeo.

Cavendish slammed his locker shut. "What's so special about Luffy anyway? It's his first game and everyone's already obsessed. Coach Rayleigh might actually make him a starter."

Bartolomeo's eyes gleamed. "I think Mr. Luffy is amazing! Did you see his kick that made the final goal? That was awesome!"

Kidd glanced over at the new kid, still buzzing with energy. "Hey, Monkey. Were those all your friends yelling for you out there?"

Law added, "Yeah. They were loud as hell."

Luffy beamed. "Yeah! They're my roommates!"

Apoo raised an eyebrow. "Even the girls?"

"Yup," Luffy nodded. "Their names are Nami and Robin."

Drake looked intrigued. "They go here too?"

"Nami does, for sure," Law said, peeling off his jersey and letting it drop. "She's in a bunch of classes with Bepo. Both of them are meteorology majors."

Apoo gave a long whistle. "Damn. They're both fucking smoking man."

Kidd leaned forward. "Which one's the redhead?"

"That's Nami," Luffy answered, chipper as ever. "And neither of them smoke. What made you think they did?"

Law groaned. "Holy shit. You talk like your brain's stuck buffering."

Kidd smirked. "So? She single? On Tinder or some shit?"

Silence.

Luffy's face contorted like someone just insulted his favorite sandwich.

Then Killer let out a low whistle, and the whole room cracked up.

"Ohhh, hell no," Apoo grinned. "You crushing on Luffy's girl now?"

Kidd rolled his eyes. "What? She's hot. Don't act like she's not. I'd risk carpal tunnel swiping for her."

Killer grinned. "So now it's only chicks in Luffy's orbit? What, finally ran outta strangers to disappoint?"

Kidd grabbed his sweaty jersey and flung it at Killer. "Eat shit."

He turned to Luffy. "C'mon, dumbass. Answer the damn question."

Luffy sighed. "Yeah, she's on Tinder. It's annoying. She's always out with some guy, barely ever home. Only kisses bad guys though—so you're outta luck."

He strolled off without another word.

The room exploded in laughter again.

Kidd huffed. "What? You don't think I count as a bad guy? Chicks who like assholes love me."

Killer scoffed. "You? You drive a car with heated seats and cry when someone dings the door."

"Yeah, well at least I have a car. Unlike your sad-ass bike that breaks every time it rains."

Killer shot back, "At least my motorcycle doesn't scream 'yuppie bitch' like your Mustang."

"'Yuppie bitch'?" Kidd laughed. "A motorcycle screams more 'bitch' than my car does. Midlife crisis ass lookin' motherfucker."

The two kept play-bickering, trading insults like old pros, while Law pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "My brain cells are forming a union and planning a strike."

After that first soccer game, Kidd downloaded Tinder specifically hoping to find her. He figured maybe if the universe didn't hand him a shot, the algorithm would. But by the time he finally set up his profile—half-assed bio, shirtless picture, one with Killer flipping off the camera—Nami had already deleted hers.

And that was that.

He kept seeing her, though. At almost every game. Cheering in the stands with that same sharp voice and killer smirk, sometimes catching glimpses of her breezing across campus in oversized sweaters and stylish boots. He never said a word. Not once. The nerves—stupid, unfamiliar nerves—always got in the way.

That was a year ago.

Then, earlier this summer, he was sitting at his desk during his lunch break, mindlessly swiping left, left, left through Tinder like it was a sport he didn't want to win. Just background noise to a long, boring day at the engineering firm.

Until—

"...no fucking shit."

His thumb froze. He sat up. He squinted.

There she was. Nami.

And not just some girl like her. Her. Same hair. Same smirk. Same freckle on her shoulder from that one soccer game where it was too hot for jackets.

Kidd stared at the screen like it might disappear.

He slowly swiped through the photos. A beach pic. One at a wine bar. A mirror selfie where she had her foot popped in the air and her mouth open like she was in mid-rant.

"Yup," he muttered. "That's her alright."

And then, his thumb slipped.

A bright blue star sparkled on screen.

"Superliked."

He blinked. "No—no no no—shit!" He shook his phone like that would undo it. It didn't.

He slumped in his chair, groaning loudly. "Well. Nothing I can do now."

He figured that was the end of it.

But a few hours later—just past midnight—his phone buzzed.

You have a match.

Kidd sat bolt upright.

He tapped the notification, heart weirdly in his throat.

Matched with: Nami.

He stared at her profile again, now with that little green message bubble glowing beneath her name.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his thumb hovering over the keyboard.

"...okay," he muttered. "Now what the hell do I say?"

He stared at the blinking cursor for what felt like hours.

Every line he came up with sounded dumber than the last.

Hey, I've seen you around campus before.

Nope. Creepy.

Wanna grab coffee sometime?

Too bland.

Is your major in robbing hearts? Because—

He wanted to punch himself for even thinking it.

Eventually, out of sheer desperation—and shame—he tapped one of the app's pre-written options.

"Hey there! 😊"

As soon as it sent, Kidd groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "Goddammit, she probably won't even respond."

He dropped the phone on his chest and stared at the ceiling. Killer would give him so much shit if he ever found out.

But then, ping.

He jolted upright.

Nami: ...did you just use one of the prewritten intro lines?

His stomach sank.

She knew?!

He panicked. He considered ghosting. Throwing the phone across the room. Faking his own death.

Eventually, after a solid five minutes of agonizing silence, he typed:

Kidd: maybe.

Another ping.

Nami: lol

Kidd blinked at the screen. Then—without thinking—he smiled.

He couldn't help it.

And just like that, he realized he'd been waiting a year to read that laugh.

Back in the present, Kidd shifted awkwardly in his seat, swirling the straw in his drink as Nami smirked at him from across the table.

"So," she said, cocking her head playfully, "you're telling me you spent an entire year drooling over me and still didn't ask me out? All because you thought I was hot?"

Kidd grunted, suddenly finding his menu a lot more interesting.

"You could've just, I don't know, walked up and asked me," Nami went on. "I like guys with confidence, you know. And I thought your whole thing was being some bad boy, angry, punk-rock asshole who doesn't give a single fuck what anybody thinks."

She leaned in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "But here you were, all this time, too chicken-shit to say hi."

Kidd scowled, cheeks flushing a little despite himself. "I wasn't chicken-shit."

Nami raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Then what was it, tough guy?"

Kidd muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Nami teased, leaning closer, pretending she hadn't heard.

Kidd glared at her, but there was no real heat behind it. "I didn't wanna look like a fuckin' idiot, alright?"

Nami laughed, bright and easy. "Newsflash: you ending up doing it anyway."

Kidd leaned back in his chair, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Nami swirled the ice in her drink, giving Kidd a sly look. "You're not normally my type, you know. I don't usually go for angry guys."

Kidd snorted. "You're not normally my type either. I mean, look at you—you're wearing a fuckin' Chappell Roan shirt right now. Who the hell actually listens to that shit?"

"I do," Nami said immediately, sitting up straighter like she was ready to throw hands. "Chappell's great. Anyone who says she's not is just trying way too hard to look cool."

Kidd made a face. "Yeah, well, anyone who says she is great is just proving they have dogshit taste."

Nami gasped, clutching her chest like he'd stabbed her. "Rude!" she said, then stuck her tongue out at him. "What other music do you even like, Mr. Expert?"

Kidd shrugged, leaning back. "You first."

Nami tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I'm really big into pop and indie. I like Lorde, Amy Winehouse, The Lumineers, Girl in Red, Mt. Joy, Megan Thee Stallion... those types of artists. Oh! I got Charli XCX tickets for her show in August with Usopp."

Kidd groaned like he was physically in pain. "Jesus. You need to start expanding your music taste to something that's not basic."

Nami narrowed her eyes. "Like what? Green Day?" she said mockingly.

Kidd scoffed. "For one, Green Day isn't basic. Sure, they've got a few radio hits, but that's beside the point. I mean real music—music that was written with some actual fuckin' purpose."

He leaned in a little, ticking names off on his fingers. "Amyl and the Sniffers. The Chats. NOFX. Rage Against The Machine. Shit with teeth, y'know? Not this manufactured pop crap."

Nami smirked, not missing a beat. "Oh, you mean angry drunk dudes with guitars yelling into a void. Yeah, super artistic."

Kidd laughed despite himself. "Better than autotuned bubblegum bullshit."

As Kidd was still shaking his head at her, muttering something about "actual music," a familiar voice floated over their table.

"Nami-swan!~"

Sanji practically glided across the restaurant floor, a towel slung over his shoulder and hearts practically popping out of his eyes. He stopped beside their table, ignoring Kidd completely.

"Nami! Did you enjoy your meal?" he asked, beaming. "I put extra love into your plate, just for you!"

Nami gave him a warm smile. "It was delicious, Sanji. Thank you."

Kidd stared at him like he was looking at an alien. "You what into her food?"

Sanji finally spared Kidd a glance, his expression going cold the second their eyes met. "Relax, gorilla. It's called cooking with passion. Something a Neanderthal like you wouldn't understand."

Kidd scowled. "You season it with 'passion' or you spit in it? Be fuckin' clear."

Sanji ignored him again, turning back to Nami with a twirl of his towel. "If you need anything else—dessert, wine, a massage—just call for me, okay?"

Nami giggled, clearly used to this. "Thanks, Sanji. I think we're good, though."

Sanji bowed dramatically. "Anything for you, my sweet Nami-swan!"

He shot Kidd one last dirty look before sweeping away back toward the kitchen.

Kidd watched Sanji disappear, a look of pure disgust on his face. "What the actual fuck was that?"

Nami snickered. "That's just Sanji."

"Christ. I thought I was bad with people," Kidd muttered, stabbing at the ice in his glass like it had personally offended him.

Nami leaned her chin into her hand, looking amused. "He's like that with most guys. Especially the ones who take me out." She grinned. "Why? You jealous?"

Kidd scoffed. "Of that frilly jackass? Not a fuckin' chance. If he touched you wrong, I'd snap his goddamn spine like a twig."

Nami gave him a sugary smile. "Aww. Protective and toxic. You're really nailing the bad boy stereotype tonight."

Kidd smirked, leaning in just enough to make her heart skip, his voice dropping low. "Tch. You're the one who said you like 'em confident."

---

Back at the guys' table, Franky glanced across the restaurant toward Nami and Kidd, then leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Looks like she's havin' a super good time."

Usopp groaned dramatically, slumping forward and nearly banging his head against the table. "I can't believe she actually went out with him again. I mean, him! Kidd's scary as hell! What could Nami possibly see in a guy like that? She's way out of his league."

Brook chuckled, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "Yohoho, what do you think, Luffy? He's your teammate, isn't he?"

Everyone turned to look at Luffy.

He didn't answer right away. He sat stiffly in his seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His mouth was pulled into a deep frown, lips pressed into a tight line. His eyes kept flicking between the table and Nami across the room, like he was trying not to stare but couldn't help himself.

His brows were furrowed so hard it looked like he was trying to solve a math problem. His foot bounced anxiously under the table, tapping out a rapid rhythm.

Finally, he just shrugged, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I dunno," he muttered, his voice flat. "He's nice. I mean, when he's not yelling or angry."

Zoro raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Jinbe exchanged a knowing look with Franky.

Brook chuckled again, light and teasing. "Yohoho, someone's feeling a little jealous, perhaps?"

Usopp leaned in. "You think Kidd's stealing Nami away?"

At that, Luffy's frown deepened even more. His hand tightened around his drink so hard it creaked. He still didn't say anything—just glared at his cup like it had personally betrayed him.

Chopper tilted his head innocently. "But... Nami's still gonna hang out with us, right? She's not going anywhere."

Luffy nodded quickly—too quickly—and forced a smile. "Yeah! Yeah, she is."

But the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Across the room, Nami laughed at something Kidd said, tossing her hair back with a carefree grin.

Luffy's gaze dropped to the table again.

As the guys continued to watch, the tension at the table only grew, and just as Luffy took another frustrated sip of his drink, Sanji dramatically plopped down at their table, lighting up a cigarette with a long, exaggerated drag.

"I wanna kick that punk loser out," he muttered, his eyes burning with irritation as he blew out a cloud of smoke. "I can't believe he's actually making Nami smile. That's my job!"

Franky, who had been watching the whole scene with a bit too much amusement, leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Ah, so you're jealous, huh, Sanji?"

Sanji shot him a death glare, but didn't take the bait. "I'm not jealous," he grumbled. "I just—"

"Care about Nami?" Usopp interrupted with a sarcastic grin, clearly enjoying the drama.

Sanji turned on him instantly, eyes narrowing. "Don't start with me, Usopp. I'm serious. That guy doesn't deserve to be anywhere near Nami. He's rude, obnoxious, and—"

"Angry," Zoro chimed in lazily, not looking up from his drink.

"Exactly!" Sanji practically shouted, leaning forward. "Angry, bad fashion taste, and—"

"Okay, okay, we get it," Franky cut in, leaning back with his arms crossed. "But maybe you should chill out. Nami's a grown woman. She can make her own choices."

Luffy, still trying to keep his face neutral, glanced at Sanji. He wasn't sure if it was the cigarette smoke or just the atmosphere in the room, but he felt something bubbling up in his chest. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, but the thought of Kidd with Nami—of anyone being that close to her—just didn't sit right.

Sanji caught Luffy's eye for a brief moment, and his smirk only grew wider. "What do you think, Luffy? You good with Nami dating that punk?"

Luffy blinked, the question catching him off guard. He turned back to the table, his fingers drumming on the edge of his cup. His expression was guarded, lips set in a firm line. He didn't answer right away, still feeling like his heart was trying to figure out what it wanted to say.

Sanji puffed out a cloud of smoke, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "I know you don't want her to go off with some idiot either."

Luffy shot him a glance, but said nothing. Instead, his foot started tapping again—faster this time, like he was running out of patience.

"Well," Sanji continued with a sigh, leaning back in his chair dramatically, "I guess it doesn't matter what we think. Nami's a grown woman and she can do whatever she wants. But it doesn't mean I gotta like it."

Usopp muttered, "It's like watching a soap opera..."

Kidd's laughter echoed from across the room, and Nami's voice rang out, light and carefree.

Luffy's frown deepened as he finally set his cup down with a soft thud. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. His mind was a mess.

Zoro tilted his head toward Sanji, brow furrowed, tone sharp. "What the fuck are you just sitting here lounging around for anyway? Aren't you supposed to be making food or something? You did just open a restaurant."

Sanji didn't even flinch. He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, and gave Zoro a lazy side-eye. "If you actually listened when someone was talking for once, you moss-brained shithead, you'd know dinner service is over. After dinner comes the show."

"Show?" Brook perked up instantly, tapping his bony fingers on the table in rhythm. "Ooh, is it music? I hope it's not a clown again. Last time someone brought in a clown, Chopper cried."

Chopper flushed and crossed his arms. "It was a really scary clown."

Sanji nodded toward the small stage near the back of the venue, where curtains were still drawn and equipment was being adjusted. "Let's hope The Kamas live up to all their glowing reviews. Otherwise…" He shrugged, flicking ash into the tray. "Big Mom's gonna be pissed."

Sanji looked toward the stage again. "Anyway, show's about to start soon. Hope Kidd can shut the hell up for five seconds so Nami can actually enjoy it."

From across the room, Kidd threw his head back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

Sanji's eye twitched. "God, I hate that guy."

---

The house lights dimmed as the low hum of feedback crackled from the speakers. The crowd quieted down instinctively, heads turning toward the stage as the curtain rustled slightly.

From stage left, a spotlight flared up, catching a petite figure in a sleek black cocktail dress with a glittering mic in hand.

Pudding.

She beamed at the crowd, voice smooth as velvet. "Thank you all for joining us tonight at The All Blue. We hope your meals were unforgettable, but the night isn't over just yet. It is my absolute pleasure to introduce our post-dinner entertainment—The Kamas!"

The crowd clapped politely, a few whistles from the back.

Then the stage went completely dark.

A beat of silence.

Then—thump.

The first booming beat of Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" echoed through the venue. A spotlight shot upward in a dramatic arc. Smoke billowed out from the corners of the stage. The music built with tension, electric and pulsing.

From the fog emerged a tall figure in a sharply tailored two-toned suit, half in blazing orange, half in violet. Their hair was split the same way, styled into an elegant wave on one side and a punky buzzcut on the other. They struck a confident pose and spoke directly into the mic, voice crisp and cool.

"I am Inazuma. Lawyer by day, icon by night."

They stepped aside just as the beat dropped. The crowd gasped as a second figure burst into a spin from stage right, arms flaring dramatically, wearing an explosive floral outfit, bedazzled from head to toe. They struck a flamboyant pose, face painted in vibrant swirls of pink and turquoise.

"Bon Clay is here, darlings! Don't worry—no pirouette left behind!"

And then the lights hit center stage, where a third performer leapt into view in a gown made entirely of black feathers and sequins, their makeup exaggerated to perfection, glittering like they had fallen straight from the cosmos.

"Iva's the name. But you—can call me the Queen of the Queers!" they declared, arms stretched wide.

At the back table, Sanji stared, wide-eyed, his cigarette dangling forgotten from his lips.

"They're... drag queens?!"

He looked nervously toward Big Mom's table, expecting a scowl. She sat still for a moment, blinking. Then her lips slowly curled upward into a grin. She brought her hands together and clapped once. Then again. Then again, faster.

The entire table of Big Mom's crew erupted into applause.

The music exploded into full volume as they launched into their choreographed number, strutting and spinning across the stage with precision and flair. Their moves were powerful, expressive, unapologetically bold. Every beat matched a flip of hair, a stomp of a heel, a shimmy of glitter. Lights pulsed in time with the rhythm, and the entire venue felt like it had been transformed into a nightclub for a moment.

When the chorus hit—"I'm beautiful in my way, 'cause God makes no mistakes..."—the crowd was already rising from their chairs, drawn in by sheer force of charisma.

Back at the crew's table, Zoro was blinking in disbelief. "...the fuck?"

Brook leaned forward. "Now that's a show!"

Usopp's jaw was on the floor. "Is that Bon Clay one wearing heels?!"

"They all are," Chopper whispered in awe.

The number ended with a dramatic group pose, Iva at the center, one leg up, Bon Clay twirling beside them, and Inazuma tossing glitter into the air as the lights dimmed out on the final note.

There was a moment of silence.

Then the room exploded with thunderous applause.

People whooped, cheered, stood up. Even some of the older folks at the back were waving napkins in the air. Someone shouted, "Encore!" and another yelled, "Slay, queens!"

Sanji slumped into his seat, blinking like he'd just been hit by a truck.

"They liked it...?"

Pudding appeared beside him, smirking. "Told you they were good."

He turned slowly to look at her. "You knew?"

The stage remained dimly lit, the last shimmers of glitter still drifting in the air as the crowd buzzed with excitement. People were laughing, clapping each other on the back, fanning themselves with menus. The energy had shifted completely—like everyone had been holding their breath and finally let it go in one big, glittery exhale.

Then, the lights snapped back to center stage, and Iva strutted forward with a microphone, still glammed to the gods and utterly radiant.

"Darlings," they purred, voice oozing charisma. "Thank you for such a glorious welcome. We felt the love." Iva gestured dramatically to Bon Clay and Inazuma, who both blew kisses to the crowd. "But don't you go thinking this was it! Oh no, no no no. The show is far from over!"

The audience let out a collective cheer, someone in the back yelling, "LET'S GOOOO!"

Iva grinned wider, eyes scanning the crowd. "For our next number… we thought we'd spice things up just a little. You've seen us strut. You've seen us serve. But now, it's time for some audience participation."

They paused, milking the suspense.

"And who better to join us on stage than the stars behind this fabulous venue?" Iva purred. "What were their names again? Oh, that's right…" They turned slowly toward the back of the room, where Sanji and Pudding sat.

"Sanji-boy and Pudding, I believe?"

The spotlight snapped to the couple's table.

Sanji went stiff. The cigarette he'd just managed to relight dropped from his lips and landed in his lap. "OI—!"

Pudding's smile spread across her face like she'd been waiting for this all night. "Oh, this is going to be good."

The crowd started chanting. "SAN-JI! SAN-JI! SAN-JI!"

Brook banged his glass like a drum. "Encore with the chef!"

Zoro leaned back with a crooked grin. "You're the one who said you liked the spotlight, right?"

Franky cupped his hands around his mouth. "GET YOUR ASS UP THERE, CURLY!"

Sanji was already flushing a deep red, trying to wave them off with a panicked laugh. "Nonono, I'm not dressed for this—"

"You're in a button-up and an apron, dumbass," Pudding said, already rising from her seat and grabbing his hand. "That's peak gay cabaret energy. You'll be fine."

Before he could protest again, the Kamas had descended the stairs into the audience like glittery sharks in heels, Bon Clay grabbing Sanji's free arm and Inazuma giving Pudding a courteous bow. Together, they swept the pair toward the stage as the whole restaurant erupted in cheers and wolf-whistles.

Sanji stumbled up the steps, muttering under his breath, "I swear to god if they make me dance—"

Iva leaned toward him with a wicked smile. "Oh, we're absolutely making you dance."

The beat kicked up again—this time a sizzling, high-energy remix of "Levitating" by Dua Lipa—and the lights bathed the stage in neon pinks and blues.

Iva winked at the crowd. "Let's see if the chef can cook on the dance floor."

Sanji stood dead center on stage, stiff as a board, his arms awkwardly glued to his sides like he was about to be executed. The music blasted around him — bass thumping, synths sparkling — but he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

The Kamas circled him and Pudding, egging them on with dramatic poses and sassy encouragements. Pudding, on the other hand, was absolutely thriving. She grabbed Sanji's hand and spun under his arm, laughing, twirling like she was born for this kind of thing.

Down in the crowd, the Baratie crew had completely lost their shit.

"YEAH, CHEF! SHAKE THAT ASS!" Patty bellowed, slamming his glass down on the table.

Carne was doubled over laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. "C'mon, Sanji, give us a little hip action! You cook with passion, now DANCE with it!"

Even Jinbe, normally a quiet, composed figure, was grinning wide, clapping along to the beat.

Brook, being Brook, called out with no shame, "May I see your panties, Sanji-san?! YOHOHOHO!"

Usopp nearly fell out of his chair laughing, clutching his sides. Zoro was sitting back with the smuggest grin, arms crossed, enjoying Sanji's pure suffering more than anything he'd seen all week.

Sanji's entire face was redder than a fire truck. He tried a half-hearted shimmy — it was stiff, pitiful, like a marionette with tangled strings — and the crowd howled.

Meanwhile, at the VIP table, Pudding's family — her older siblings and a few cousins — were absolutely eating it up.

"LOOK AT HER GO!" one of her brothers shouted, practically standing on his chair.

Her sister was recording the whole thing on her phone, screaming, "YOU'RE KILLING IT, PUDDING! SLAY, QUEEN!"

Mama Carmel, who helped run some of Big Mom's side businesses, was clapping along like a proud grandma. Even Big Mom herself had broken into hearty, thundering laughter.

"MAAAAAA-MAMAMAMA! THIS IS ENTERTAINMENT!" she roared, pounding her massive fist on the table so hard the cutlery jumped.

Back on stage, Iva leaned in next to Sanji, who was still frozen and miserable, and shouted gleefully into the mic, "What's wrong, Sanji-boy? You can work your hips in the kitchen but not on the dancefloor?!"

Sanji grabbed the microphone with a desperate kind of anger. "I'M A CHEF, NOT A FUCKING GO-GO DANCER!"

The Kamas just laughed and twirled around him, Bon Clay grabbing his free arm and swinging it above his head in a wild, glittery move that made the entire restaurant erupt even louder.

Pudding winked at him and leaned in close enough for only him to hear, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Come on, Sanji. Don't you want to show me your moves?"

Sanji, still beet-red, nearly choked on air.

The music bumped louder. The lights flashed. And despite everything, despite his rigid horror, Sanji was slowly, painfully moving a little more — mostly because Pudding yanked him into it — while the Kamas led the whole restaurant into the most chaotic, glitter-fueled dance party anyone had ever seen.

---

The lights had dimmed back to their usual warm glow, the throb of music finally dying down as the last few patrons laughed their way out of the restaurant. Staff began clearing tables, stacking chairs, sweeping up confetti and stray glitter that seemed to have multiplied during the night. The Kamas, now out of their drag but still fabulous, were lounging near the stage, wiping off their makeup and sipping celebratory drinks.

Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Brook, Chopper, Jinbe, and Franky all came stumbling up to them like excited kids at a concert meet-and-greet.

"That was so awesome!" Luffy beamed, practically bouncing. "You were all, like, boom! And then the glitter! And then—BOOOORN THIS WAY!"

Bon Clay laughed, immediately clasping Luffy by the shoulders. "A kindred spirit! I can feel it! You and I were meant to meet."

Luffy threw an arm over Bon's shoulders. "You're cool. I like you."

"I like you more!," Bon Clay grinned, lifting Luffy in a full twirl to his wild laughter.

Usopp was wide-eyed. "I didn't even know legs could move like that…"

Zoro crossed his arms, clearly trying not to admit how much he'd enjoyed it, though his twitching mouth betrayed him. "Not my thing… but, damn, I've never seen a room eat up a performance like that."

Brook bowed deeply. "Your performance was so stunning! As an artist myself, I was in awe!"

"SUUUUUPER!" Franky roared. "You guys are mechanical perfection! You got hydraulic-level charisma!"

Chopper was shy, blushing behind his hat, but gave a big thumbs-up. "You were really cool…"

Inazuma grinned and offered a dramatic bow. "Thank you, thank you. We live to serve and slay."

Nearby, Sanji was slumped in a chair with a scowl plastered on his face, arms crossed and cigarette dangling from his lips like it offended him just by existing. He grumbled, "God, I can't believe I signed a contract with you all for a whole year of this. Maybe I can rip it up or something…"

Iva sauntered over in casual glam, fanning themselves with a laminated folder. "Ah ah ah, Sanji-boy. Don't even think about it." They snapped the folder open and waved several pristine copies of the contract in front of his face. "We Kamas are very diligent. Multiple copies, darling. Triple signed. Digitally backed up. Not even the devil can save you."

Laughter exploded around the group. Sanji groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is supposed to be a fine dining establishment, not some goddamn nightclub…"

"Lighten up, blondie," Bon Clay said, elbowing him with a wink. "Drag is the finest kind of art."

Just then, Nami approached with Kidd, both of them still slightly flushed from laughing and the wine. Nami gave the Kamas a playful salute. "Well, you were definitely a sight. I was not expecting that kind of show."

Kidd grunted, clearly trying not to admit he was impressed. "Yeah. Was… loud."

Before he could say more, Bon Clay practically floated over, already zeroing in on Nami with delighted curiosity. "Ohhh~ and who might this fine, radiant lady be?" he asked, doing a full circle around her like a fashion critic at the Met Gala.

Nami laughed, casually striking a pose. "Name's Nami. I'm roommates with all those idiots over there."

Inazuma let out a low whistle. "Roommates? In that chaotic sausage fest? Girl, you deserve a damn medal."

"Ooo, and the shirt!" Iva exclaimed, pointing to the bold Chappell Roan print across Nami's top. "Now that's taste! A woman of culture and heartbreak pop."

"I knew I liked her," Bon Clay grinned, looping an arm around Nami's shoulders. "You give main character energy, darling."

Nami beamed at all the praise, clearly having the time of her life, basking in the glow of queer approval. Then, inevitably, attention shifted.

"And who," Inazuma drawled, peering at Kidd from behind dark lashes, "is this particular piece of work?"

Nami blinked, realizing the sudden shift, then cleared her throat. "Oh, uh. This is Kidd."

Iva raised a sculpted brow. "Your boyfriend?"

Nami gave a nervous little laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Uhhh, no. This was our second date."

Iva and Inazuma weren't about to let up that easily.

"Ohhh, second date," Iva said with a wink, swanning around Nami and Kidd like a shark smelling blood. "And already coming to shows together? That's practically marriage material in my book!"

Inazuma smirked, arms crossed. "Careful, girl. Blink twice and you'll be moving into a two-bedroom apartment with a cat named 'Rebel' and a mortgage."

Nami laughed awkwardly, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Kidd looked even worse, his usual scowl deepening into something between a glare and pure get me the fuck outta here energy.

Bon Clay, meanwhile, had his eyes elsewhere. He caught the brief flicker that crossed Luffy's face the second Iva had called Kidd Nami's boyfriend — the slight downturn of his mouth, the furrow between his brows. It lasted only a second, but Bon Clay's keen gaze didn't miss it.

He grinned to himself and muttered under his breath, "Ohhh, how interesting. Straight people are such drama."

Back by the Kamas, Kidd shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Nami like he wanted to speed this up before someone else said something even worse. He leaned down slightly, speaking lower so only she could hear.

"You have a good time?" he asked, voice gruff but genuine.

Nami's face softened a little. She nodded. "Yeah. Did you?"

Kidd shrugged, looking vaguely irritated at the admission. "Enough to ask you right now when date number three's gonna be."

Nami smirked, tapping his chest lightly with two fingers. "Take me home first, and maybe I'll consider it."

She turned with a wave, tossing a playful smile back at the Kamas and her friends. Kidd muttered a quick goodbye under his breath and hurried after her.

The two of them exited into the cool night, walking toward Kidd's beat-up but somehow still badass-looking Mustang. The engine gave a low, rumbling purr as he unlocked it, Nami slipping easily into the passenger seat, the door creaking slightly as she shut it.

Behind them, back inside, Bon Clay leaned against the wall, arms folded, smiling like he was watching a particularly juicy soap opera unfold.

---

The house was shrouded in quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only came in the late hours of the night when everyone else was asleep. The soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wood beneath her feet were the only sounds that greeted Nami as she wandered out of her room. Her hair, still a little tangled from sleep, hung loosely around her shoulders, and her glasses slipped down her nose as she rubbed her eyes.

She'd gotten thirsty, and the familiar pull of the kitchen called to her. As she walked through the dimly lit living room, she noticed a figure on the couch. It was Luffy, sitting hunched over with his legs stretched out in front of him, a bag of chips in his hand. He didn't seem to be doing much of anything—just eating and watching the muted TV, the light from the screen flickering across his face.

Nami paused for a moment, surprised to find him still awake. She gave a soft sigh, rubbing her eyes again, as if to convince herself that she wasn't imagining it. "Why are you still up? We both have work tomorrow," she said, her voice quiet but curious.

"You're always hungry," she muttered under her breath, very familiar to the rhythm of his late-night eating habits.

Nami turned on the tap, filling up a glass of water, "You know, if you're really having trouble sleeping, you should take Chopper up on his sleep medicine offer."

There was a long pause as Nami drank the water, her mind still somewhat foggy from sleep. She then placed the empty glass in the sink, prepared to go back to sleep when Luffy finally spoke.

"Nami?"

His tone was soft, almost like he was testing the waters. She stopped mid-motion and glanced over at him. His eyes were now on her, though not fully—he was still eating, but his gaze was unfocused, as if he were thinking about something else entirely.

"Yeah?" she replied, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Luffy chewed another chip before finally looking up at her properly. There was no dramatic pause, no sign that he was building up to anything important. But somehow, the question felt heavier than it should have.

"Did you have a good time on your date?" His voice was quiet, almost tentative, like he was unsure whether he should ask at all.

Nami blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. There was a strange pause between them, a heavy, lingering silence that made her feel like something unspoken was crackling in the air. She stood there for a moment, her mind racing. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Luffy wasn't the type to care about her dating life—he hadn't even batted an eye when she'd gone through her last Tinder phase. The only thing he ever did was complain that he missed her, grumbling that she wasn't around as much. But never once had he asked if she'd had a good time.

Yet now, there was something different in the way he looked at her. A subtle shift. Like he was feeling something he didn't know how to say—or maybe something she didn't know how to understand.

"Why do you ask?" she ventured at last, her voice softer, more cautious than usual.

Luffy hesitated for a second before speaking again. "Do you... do you think he's a bad guy?" he asked, his words tentative, almost childlike.

Nami stared at him, baffled. "Huh? What kind of question is that?"

He straightened a little, the bag of chips crinkling as he set it aside. His voice was a little steadier the second time. "Do you think he's a bad guy?"

Nami exhaled, a small laugh escaping her, though it wasn't really amused. "I don't know. This was only our second date," she said, crossing her arms loosely. "You're the one who's teammates with him."

She paused, watching him a little closer now. "I asked you when he first liked me on Tinder if he was cool, and all you said was, 'Up to you, I guess.'"

Luffy didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to the floor, fingers tightening around the edge of the chip bag. "Do you think I'm a bad guy?" he asked quietly.

Nami stared at him, stunned by the sudden shift. Then she stepped toward him, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Luffy, what the hell is going on with you?" she snapped. "This whole month, you've been weird. Distant. Then that whole hospital thing happened, and I thought we were okay—you didn't sleep for over a day just to make sure I was safe. And now it's back to this awkward, moody version of you. You've never cared about my dating life before. Ever. And don't even get me started on today—Hancock is pissed at me now, thanks to you."

"Because of me?" Luffy's head jerked up, his voice edged with offense. "You think Hancock's mad at you because of me?"

"Of course she is! She doesn't want to be my friend anymore because she thinks I'm trying to seduce you just because we live together!"

"I told her we were just friends! I was helping you out! I know she can be protective of me at times. And for some reason, even though you were on a date with some other guy, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. I was being honest! Plus, you're the one who left out that you live with me when you first met her. What was that about by the way? Are you suddenly ashamed to be my friend?"

Nami's mouth fell open, stunned. "On a date with—wait. Are you jealous or something?"

He didn't answer, but the flicker in his expression gave her enough of one.

"Oh my god," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Look, I know you get weird about people dating. You told me how it made you feel when Ace and Sabo had girlfriends, and you felt left out. But this is different. I'm different. I'm not your brother, Luffy. I'm an adult. An adult woman at that. Because sometimes, it feels like you don't even register that I'm a girl! I want to be loved! And I want to date! I should be allowed to try and find someone who might actually want to be my boyfriend someday. That's not some betrayal!"

Luffy stood up, brushing the crumbs from his lap. His expression had gone blank again, a wall slamming back into place. "Well," he said coolly, "thanks for answering my question then, Nami. Good night."

She stared at him, jaw falling open. "WHAT FUCKING QUESTION?!" she snapped, clapping her hands with each word.

Before he could respond, a door down the hall slammed open.

"For fuck's sake," Zoro's gravelly voice rang out as he stormed into the living room, hair flattened on one side from his pillow. "You two. It is one in the fucking morning. I have to be at the dojo in three fucking hours to help Tashigi with her training. Everyone else—including both of you—has to be at work in seven hours."

He pointed at them like a teacher catching students passing notes. "If you're gonna scream at each other like you're in a damn soap opera, take it outside!"

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Nami's nostrils flared. She turned to Luffy, grabbed his arm just above the wrist, and yanked him toward the door. "Fine then. We will!"

"Thank you!" Zoro shouted after them, already turning on his heel and stomping back to bed, muttering, "Jesus fucking Christ…"

The door slammed shut behind them a second later, the cool night air rushing in as they stepped outside under the flickering porch light.

---

Outside, the air was cool and biting, a stark contrast to the heat simmering between them. Crickets chirped in the bushes lining the porch, and somewhere down the block, a dog barked once, sharp and distant.

Nami crossed her arms and turned on him the second the door clicked shut behind them.

"Now tell me," she snapped, "what fucking question did I answer exactly?"

Luffy's eyes flicked up to her, his expression still unreadable. "That you think I'm a bad guy!"

She scoffed, loud and incredulous. "When did I ever say that?"

"You didn't have to," he said, voice low but certain.

She stared at him for a beat, blinking in disbelief. "Luffy, if I thought you were a bad person, why the fuck would I be living with you?"

"I don't know!" he shot back, too fast.

"Exactly!" she barked, throwing her arms out. "You don't know, because it's not true!"

But then Luffy stepped forward, face tight, jaw clenched like he was holding something back that had been burning its way up for days.

"Well, if you didn't think I was a bad person," he said, words tumbling out fast and reckless, "then why would you try to kiss me?"

The world seemed to pause.

Nami's breath hitched. The wind rattled the leaves on the porch. Her mouth opened—then closed again. She looked at him like he'd struck her with a question she didn't know she'd been avoiding.

"I—" she started, but nothing came out.

Luffy just stood there, his eyes dark under the porch light, the usual boyish warmth drained from his face. He didn't look angry—he looked hurt. Confused. Maybe even a little scared.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped down onto the patio deck, legs crossed awkwardly as he hunched over.

"You told me you were just trying to wipe crumbs off my face," he said, voice low and a little hoarse. "And I believed you. I really did."

He picked at a loose thread on the hem of his shorts, not looking up.

"But then, when Franky and I were watching Usopp on that dumb date..." Luffy muttered, his voice low. "I looked like an idiot. I told Franky that Kaya wasn't trying to kiss Usopp—that she was just wiping crumbs off his face. Just like you said."

He let out a humorless laugh, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

"And... you only kiss bad guys. Those random men from Tinder, or at clubs. You always said they were bad people, so it didn't matter if you kissed them and took their money. It was okay because you didn't care about them."

He finally looked up at her, and there was something raw and unguarded in his eyes.

"So what does that make me?"

Nami felt something twist sharply in her chest. For a moment, she couldn't find any words. She was embarrassed—Luffy had figured it out after all. And Luffy, who was always so simple, so straightforward, had just laid himself bare in front of her, and she hadn't seen it coming.

"Luffy..." she started, but he flinched, like he didn't want to hear whatever excuse she was about to offer.

She knelt down in front of him, reaching out, but her hand hovered near his knee before falling uselessly back to her side.

"You're not a bad guy," she said firmly, willing him to believe it. "You're one of the best people I know. You're—" She broke off, shaking her head, frustrated with how small words felt compared to the truth sitting heavy between them. "You're my family, Luffy."

He looked at her like she had punched him.

"Family," he repeated hollowly.

"Yeah!" she said, desperate now, grasping for anything that would make him understand. "You idiot, why else would I put up with your eating habits, or your dumb pranks, or the fact that you never, ever replace the toilet paper when it runs out—?"

"You don't try to kiss your family," he said quietly.

Nami groaned, dragging both hands through her hair. "You know what? Fuck it, Luffy. I tried to kiss you because... because I like you! Okay?"

"I like you too," he said instantly.

Nami groaned louder and plopped down beside him on the porch, burying her face in her hands. "No, Luffy. You don't get it. I like like you."

She dropped her hands and stared up at the night sky, letting the words spill out in a rush.

"I don't know exactly when it started. Maybe I always have. But after our camping trip, when it was just the two of us here, alone, while we waited to heal and go back to work... something changed. It was like a switch flipped. And I've been trying to flip it off ever since." She sighed. "I'm sorry I tried to take your first kiss. That was wrong. But the reason I couldn't tell Hancock I saw you as just a friend... is because I don't. I think I want more. But I also don't want to throw away what we have. You're important to me, Luffy. More important than...than anything."

The porch was silent, save for the distant chirp of insects in the warm night air.

Nami let out a shaky breath and scoffed. "Well, say something, at least."

Luffy just stared at her, like he was trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. His fingers fidgeted absently with the hem of his shorts, and he stayed so quiet that Nami felt like she might actually combust from sheer humiliation.

With a frustrated huff, she pushed herself up to stand. "Forget it. I'm going back to bed."

But before she could turn away, Luffy finally spoke, voice low and uncertain. "If you really like me like that... then why are you trying to date other people? Why are you going on dates with Kidd?"

Nami froze, still half-turned toward the door. She clenched her fists at her sides, forcing herself to stay calm.

"Why do you care?" she demanded, spinning back around to face him.

"Because I just do, okay!" Luffy snapped, louder than he meant to. He scrubbed both hands through his hair, gripping the strands in frustration. "And it's not just because I'm scared he's gonna take all your time and you won't have any left for any of us."

He dropped his hands, breathing heavily, the words spilling out fast and messy now, like he couldn't hold them back anymore.

"There's also... fuck! I don't know! I'm so confused! My head hurts all the time from thinking about this crap. I've been stuck on it all month, and I still don't know!"

He kicked at the porch railing with the side of his foot, not hard enough to damage it, but enough to make it rattle. "Everything used to be so simple, and now every time I see you with someone else, it feels...bad. Like I swallowed a rock. And I hate it."

Luffy kept going, voice cracking under the weight of everything he'd been trying so hard to swallow.

"All I could think about when I saw you in that hospital bed after Kidd saved you was how grateful I was that he was there for you at that moment to make sure you were safe." His fists clenched in his lap. "But also... that it shouldn't have been him who saved you. It should've been me."

He shook his head, laughing bitterly under his breath. "It's my job to look after you. To make you smile, to cheer you up when you're down, to be that person for you."

When he looked at her again, there was no wall, no boyish grin — just Luffy, wide open and hurting. Tears were starting to well in his eyes, shining under the porch light.

"It... it fucking hurts, Nami," he said, voice rough and broken. "It feels like you're replacing me."

He sat there, staring at her, the weight of his words hanging in the air, suffocating. A tear slipped down his cheek, quiet and unbidden, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. It lingered, an unspoken truth between them, vulnerable and sharp.

"I... I hate it," he muttered, his voice trembling. "I hate how you redownloaded Tinder."

Nami froze, caught off guard by the quiet confession, but before she could react, the words kept spilling out, jagged and fast.

"I hate how you made me take those stupid pictures for your profile. I... I don't know. It feels like you're looking for someone else. Someone better than me." His eyes were wide and frantic, trying to communicate something that seemed to get lost in translation, like he was begging her to understand but wasn't sure if she could.

Another tear slid down his cheek, and his voice cracked further as he spoke again. "And the worst part is, I know I shouldn't care. You're right. You're an adult. You should be able to make your own choices and be with whoever you want... but I want you to choose me. Over everyone else. I know it's selfish, but that's just what I want."

Luffy's sobs broke through the tension, harsh and desperate. The tears came faster now, like the floodgates had been thrown wide open. His hands balled into fists on his knees, his body shaking with the weight of everything he had been holding in.

Nami's heart clenched at the sight. She couldn't stand it anymore. She moved toward him, her breath shaky as she crouched beside him. Gently, she cupped his tear-streaked face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over the wetness on his skin, wiping away the tears that seemed endless.

She, too, felt the sting of tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to make you feel like this... I didn't realize... how much it was hurting you."

Luffy shook his head, his breath ragged. "I... I didn't want to hurt you either," he choked out. "I just... I needed time. I didn't know what to do with all these feelings. But I've been hurting you too, haven't I?"

"Yes," she replied softly, her voice trembling, "You have. But I've been hurting too. You've been avoiding me, and it... it makes me feel like I'm invisible to you. And I've cried so many times over this, Luffy. I've tried to hold it all in, but..." Her voice cracked. "We should've talked sooner. All of this has been building up, and it was just a matter of time until the dam broke."

Luffy wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling. "I'm sorry, Nami... I didn't realize how much I was hurting you. I didn't mean to."

"I know," Nami said, pushing up her glasses and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She took a shaky breath and leaned in closer to him, her voice quiet but steady. "But I should've seen it sooner. I should've known. You've been struggling, and I didn't notice until it was too late."

"I... I just needed space," Luffy admitted, looking up at her with raw sincerity. "To figure out what I was feeling. I didn't want to hurt you."

She nodded slowly, feeling a weight lift off her chest. "I get it now, Luffy. I get it."

For a moment, they both sat in silence, the air thick with the unspoken words that had been clogging their lungs for so long. Nami let out a shaky breath, wiping away the last of her tears.

"Luffy..." she whispered, hesitating before asking, "Can I kiss you? Not because I think you're a bad guy, but..." She trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

Before she could finish her sentence, Luffy closed the space between them, pressing his lips against hers in a fierce, messy kiss. It was clumsy, full of the desperation and rawness of everything they hadn't said until now. Luffy's hands stayed glued to his side, his movements awkward, as though he wasn't sure how to do this.

But Nami didn't care. She kissed him back, her heart pounding in her chest, feeling the overwhelming emotion in every movement. She felt him pull away just as suddenly as he'd kissed her, both of them panting, their faces flushed.

They locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them, before they both leaned in again. This time, the kiss was different — deeper, more certain, full of passion and relief. There was no hesitation, no fear. Just the need to be close, to find something real after all the pain and confusion.

Their kisses turned messy fast — all clumsy mouths, hot breaths, and awkward angles. Luffy kissed like he how he lived his life: reckless, eager, throwing his whole heart into it without a second thought for technique. Their teeth knocked together more than once, and he kept missing her mouth entirely, landing half on her lips, half on her cheek. He really was a bad kisser. However, Nami decided to give him grace, seeing as this was his time doing something like this.

Nami let out a soft, breathless laugh against his lips, her heart swelling painfully at how genuine he was, how desperately he was trying. She pulled back just a little, resting her forehead against his.

"Okay, okay," she whispered, cheeks flushed pink. She reached up, slipping her glasses off and folding them quickly, setting them aside on the porch next to them. She blinked a few times without them, her vision slightly blurred but her focus fully on him.

"Follow my lead, dummy."

He nodded, wide-eyed and flushed, and this time when they leaned back in, Nami guided him — tilting her head just so, slowing the frantic pace, molding his mouth against hers with gentle persistence. She kissed him slowly, teaching him how to move with her instead of against her, how to linger a little longer, to savor.

Luffy was a quick learner when it mattered. His hands, which had been hovering awkwardly at his sides, finally found her waist, tentative at first, then tightening with a shaky sort of confidence as he pulled her closer.

They stayed like that for a long, golden moment, tangled up in each other, the heat of the night and the rawness of everything they hadn't said bleeding into something sweet and desperate and a little broken.

Nami's hands slipped up to tangle in his hair, and Luffy let out a soft, helpless noise into her mouth that made her knees buckle. She kissed him deeper, harder, trying to pour every aching, miserable, hopeful feeling into him — but just as she was losing herself in it, just as she felt him start to really kiss her back, Luffy suddenly pulled away with a gasp.

He sat there panting, his face flushed a deep red, his fingers still clutching at the fabric of her shirt like he didn't want to let go.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said, voice hoarse and wrecked.

Nami blinked at him, stunned, her mind still foggy with the feel of him.

"What?" she breathed.

Luffy looked tortured. He rubbed his wrist across his mouth like he could erase what they'd just done. "We shouldn't... Usopp said I need to tread carefully."

She jerked back, the sting of his words sharper than she'd expected. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second — Usopp? You talked to Usopp about this?"

Luffy nodded earnestly. "Yeah. And Zoro too. Actually, that was a given — Zoro already knew since he walked in on you trying to kiss me, you know."

Nami scoffed loudly, crossing her arms. "Unbelievable," she snapped. "How many people did you tell?!"

"Just them!" Luffy said defensively, eyes wide. "What? You didn't tell anyone you tried to kiss me?"

Nami stared at him, mouth dropping open. "That's different!"

"How?" he asked, genuinely bewildered.

She shook her head, feeling heat rising to her face again — this time from anger and embarrassment.

"This is way too much right now," she muttered, grabbing her glasses and pushing herself to her feet with stiff movements. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, aching for him, furious with him, aching for herself.

"I'm... I'm going to bed."

She turned sharply, not trusting herself to look back, and practically fled inside.

"Good night, Luffy," she tossed over her shoulder, voice cracking on the words.

Luffy stayed behind on the porch, staring at the space where she'd been, very confused about what exactly just took place.