The group stood on the white cloud shore. Takuya was already moving toward the forest when a shadow passed over them.
Everyone looked up.
A pegasus descended, white-feathered, wings catching the light. On its back sat an old man in a blue cape, a lance resting across his lap. And in front of him, clutching the pegasus's neck, was Nami.
She looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge. Twice. Her clothes were torn, her hair was a disaster, and there was a scratch on her cheek. But she was safe.
Pierre landed. Nami slid off, stumbled, but caught herself.
Gan Fall dismounted, his cape settling behind him. "I brought her back."
The group stared.
Usopp blinked. "Nami?"
"Obviously." She brushed a leaf off her shoulder.
Sanji's face went through several shades of emotion—relief, panic, something unreadable. His legs moved before his brain could catch up, sprinting toward her, unable to control himself after seeing her torn clothes and that scratch on her face.
"NAMI-SAN—"
Nami walked past him.
Sanji froze mid-stride, arms still open. His jaw hung open. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
She walked straight to Takuya, stopped in front of him, and hugged him. His arms came up around her.
"I'm back," she said into his chest. Her voice cracked. Tears started falling—not loud sobs, just quiet, shaky tears she couldn't stop.
Takuya held her. One hand pressed against her back. The other cradled her head. His expression didn't shift. He just held her steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Behind them, Sanji's arms slowly lowered. His eye twitched violently.
Zoro walked past him, voice flat. "Tough break, cook."
"Shut up." Sanji's voice was tight.
"She hugged him. Not you." Zoro's smirk widened. "All that sprinting. All that worry. And she walked right past you. Like you weren't even there."
"Zoro, I swear—"
"I'm just saying. If I ran that fast and got ignored, I'd rethink my life choices."
Usopp was on the ground, wheezing. Chopper tilted his head. "Why is Usopp laughing? Did something funny happen?"
Zoro smirked. "The cook got rejected. Again."
Chopper's eyes widened. "Wait—Sanji got rejected? By Nami? But he always says—"
"Don't say it," Sanji growled.
"—she's his 'Nami-san'—"
"Chopper." Sanji's voice was a warning.
Zoro snorted. "Even the reindeer gets it."
Sanji's face was red. He spun around. "She could have been dying! She still has a scratch on her cheek! What if something worse happened?!"
Robin's voice was calm, dry. "Clearly nothing worse happened. She's standing here. Hugging him. Ignoring you."
Sanji opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
He turned to Nami, still pressed against Takuya's chest. His voice was quieter now, frustrated, tired. "Nami-san... I was worried."
Nami pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes. "I'm fine. Really."
"Then why did you ignore me?"
"I was scared, Sanji."
He blinked. "What?"
She sniffled. "I was running. I was hiding. I thought I was going to die. And when I finally got back..." She looked up at Takuya, then back at Sanji. "I just wanted to feel safe. He makes me feel safe."
Sanji's expression shifted. Something cracked behind his eyes. "So you ran to him."
"Yes."
"You didn't even look at me."
"I know."
"And he just stood there. Didn't run to you. Didn't seem worried. Didn't—"
"He doesn't have to run." Nami's voice was soft, but firm. "He knows I'll always come back to him. That's why I feel safe."
Sanji stared at her. Then at Takuya. Then back at her.
His shoulders dropped. He turned away, reaching for his cigarette pack. "I need a cigarette."
Zoro's voice followed him. "You need several."
Sanji lit one, took a long drag that almost finished the whole cigarette in one go, and exhaled all the smoke toward the sky. "Shut up."
Luffy tilted his head. "So we don't need to go to the Upper Yard?"
Nami pulled back from Takuya, still holding his arm. "No. He helped me escape." She gestured at Gan Fall.
Takuya looked at the old man. "You rescued her."
"I did." Gan Fall adjusted his cape. "I was bored."
Robin smiled. "An honest man."
"He's something," Nami muttered.
Gan Fall stepped forward. "I believe I've earned a thank you."
"Thank you," Nami said flatly.
"You're welcome." He turned to the group. "Your navigator is resourceful. She hid from priests, avoided traps, and found the ruins. Impressive."
Sanji took a slow drag, watching them through the smoke. "Great. Really great. She almost died, and we're just standing here. Perfect."
Robin glanced at him. "She almost didn't die, Sanji."
"She had a scratch."
"She's fine. It's not like some bone is broken."
"You don't know that!"
"I do, actually." Robin's voice was calm. "I'm an archaeologist. I survived all alone till now. I read people. She's standing. Breathing. Arguing. That's not someone who almost died."
Sanji opened his mouth, then closed it.
Robin tilted her head, studying him. "Sanji. It's a scratch. A small cut on her cheek. Some torn clothes. Why are you acting like she was at death's door?"
He didn't answer.
She continued, her voice softer now, but no less probing. "Have you never seen a woman get hurt before? Is this the first time someone you care about has had a scratch?"
Sanji's jaw tightened. His cigarette burned between his fingers.
"Or is it something else?" Robin's eyes narrowed. "You're not worried about the scratch. You're worried about something else. Something you're not saying."
Sanji turned away, his shoulders stiff. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't seem like nothing."
"It's just—" He stopped. His hand trembled slightly. "It's just... I don't like seeing her hurt. Any of them. I don't like it."
Robin watched him carefully. "That's not a normal reaction to a scratch, Sanji. That's a reaction to something deeper." She paused. "Do you think Nami is weak? Is that why you're so afraid? Because you don't trust her to survive a small injury?"
Sanji's eyes widened. "No. That's not—"
"Then what is it?"
The silence stretched. Sanji's cigarette had burned down to the filter. He didn't seem to notice.
Finally, he spoke. His voice was quieter now. Hollow.
"I grew up in a place where people were hurt. Badly. All the time. And I couldn't do anything about it." He swallowed. "I promised myself I would never let that happen again. Not to anyone. Not to anyone I—"
He stopped.
Robin's expression softened. "I see."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I wasn't going to ask."
He lit another cigarette. His hand was steady this time. "She's fine. That's what matters."
Robin nodded slowly. "Yes. She is."
Sanji turned away, staring at the sky. "I'm going to check on her anyway."
Robin didn't stop him. She watched him walk away, her expression thoughtful.
Behind her, Zoro raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"
Robin's voice was quiet. "Something he doesn't want to talk about."
Zoro grunted. "Figures."
Meanwhile Takuya and Gan fall were having their own conversations.
Gan Fall's expression shifted. "And I'm here to help you deal with Enel."
Takuya's eyebrow rose. "Why?"
Gan Fall's grip tightened on his lance. "I want to see him fall." He met Takuya's eyes. "I think you're the one who can make it happen. And I want to be the god of this land again. This island needs someone who cares. Not a tyrant playing with lightning."
Luffy grinned. "Sounds fun."
Gan Fall stared at him. "He calls himself a god. He controls lightning. He can strike anyone from anywhere."
"I don't like lightning," Luffy said. "But I like adventure."
Usopp screamed. "THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!"
"It doesn't have to," Luffy said, already walking toward the village. "It just has to be fun."
Conis and Pagaya watched from a distance. Pagaya's hand was on his daughter's shoulder.
"They're not going to destroy us," Conis whispered. "Are they?"
Pagaya shook his head slowly. "No. But we made a mistake. And we'll have to live with it."
Conis looked down at the cloud ground. Her tears dripped onto the white surface. "We chose the wrong side."
Pagaya pulled her close. "Yes. And now we hope their mercy outweighs our mistake."
Takuya pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on Nami's shoulders. "You need to change these rags that are not worthy to be on my businesswoman's body."
Nami nodded, still sniffling. "Yeah. I know."
He took her hand and led her toward the Dune Serpent, ignoring the stares of the others. Sanji watched them go, his cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. Zoro's smirk faded into something unreadable. Robin's expression was soft, knowing.
Nami didn't look back.
Inside the cabin, Takuya closed the door behind them. Nami stood in the middle of the room, her torn clothes hanging off her frame. She was shivering—not from cold, but from the release of adrenaline.
Takuya walked to a small chest and pulled out a fresh set of clothes—a simple white blouse and dark pants. He placed them on the bed and turned to her.
She didn't move.
He raised an eyebrow. "You need to change."
"I know."
"Then change."
She looked at him. Her eyes were still wet. "You're not going to leave."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
"No," he said. "I'm not."
She could have told him to wait outside. She could have pushed him away again. But she didn't. She was tired of pushing. Tired of running. Tired of pretending she didn't want him there.
She reached for the hem of her torn shirt and pulled it over her head.
Her skin was pale, marked with small scratches and bruises from her flight through the forest. Her ribs were visible beneath her breasts—she'd been eating, but the stress of the whole upper yard had taken its toll.
She didn't look at him. She couldn't.
Her hands moved to the waistband of her pants. She hesitated for only a moment before pushing them down, stepping out of them.
She stood before him, completely bare.
Takuya's expression didn't change. His eyes moved over her body—not with hunger, but with assessment. Cataloging every scratch, every bruise, every sign of injury.
Then he walked toward her.
"Endure it for a moment," he said quietly.
His hand reached out and touched her shoulder. A small cut. He pressed his palm against it, and warmth spread through her skin. The cut began to close.
Nami winced. The warmth spread through her skin, but beneath it, something deeper shifted—bones realigning, tissue knitting itself back together at an unnatural speed. It wasn't the kind of healing that came naturally. It was forceful. Deliberate.
She didn't know if he had to do it this way. She didn't ask. But she felt it—every fiber of her being pulled back into place, piece by piece. It hurt. It hurt a lot. There was no gentleness in the healing.
His hand moved to her arm. Another scratch. Then her ribs. A bruise that had formed where she'd slammed into a tree. Then her hip. A gash from a branch.
Each touch brought a flash of pain, followed by relief.
Nami's breath hitched. Her hand reached out and found his, gripping it tightly.
Takuya paused. He looked at her face—tears were streaming down her cheeks again, but she wasn't sobbing. Just silent tears.
He guided her to the full-length mirror against the wall.
He sat behind her, pulling her onto his lap. Her naked body pressed against his clothed form. His legs framed hers. His chest was warm against her back.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her in place. His right hand cradled her face, palm warm against her cheek, fingers curving along her jaw with a tenderness that made her breath catch. He turned her head slowly, deliberately, like she was something fragile worth handling with care.
His thumb brushed the corner of her eye, catching a stray tear before it could fall. The left hand continued its work—a gentle press on her shoulder, a slow glide over her ribs, a whisper of warmth across her hip—finding each injury, coaxing it closed with a patience that felt almost reverent.
Nami's muscles began to unlock. One by one, the knots in her shoulders loosened. Her breathing deepened. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding herself until she felt herself sinking into his touch, her weight shifting against his chest, her head tilting back just slightly.
There was no rush in his movements. No urgency. Just a steady, unhurried attention to every part of her that hurt.
His thumb traced the line of her collarbone, pausing at a small bruise. The warmth spread beneath his palm, and she let out a soft sigh, her body finally yielding to the comfort he was offering.
"Good," he murmured. "Just like that."
"Look at yourself," he said quietly to distract her from focusing too much on her injuries.
She looked. She saw herself—red-eyed, tear-streaked, naked in his arms. And she saw him behind her, his expression calm, his eyes steady.
"I thought I was going to die," she whispered.
"I know."
"I wanted you there." Her voice cracked. "When I was hiding in that ruin. When I thought the priest would find me. When I was alone and scared and thinking about how I'd never see anyone again." She swallowed. "I just wanted to see you one last time, and die in your arms, if I was going to die."
Takuya's hand paused on her skin. His thumb brushed her cheek.
"Don't think like that," he said softly. "Do you think I'd let you die like that? You haven't even said you love me yet."
Nami laughed—a wet, broken laugh. "You haven't said it to me either. Shouldn't the man make the first confession?"
"I already have two wives, love." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "Do you think you'd feel anything special if I said 'I love you' when I haven't even said it to Vivi or Robin yet? Besides, isn't this your first proper relationship? It's more fun to have you say it to me."
Nami stared at him in the mirror. "You are terrible. I'm at my most vulnerable, letting you touch my naked body without any commitments, letting you do whatever you want to me and you have the audacity to ask me to say 'I love you' while telling me you won't say it to me first?" She shook her head. "How far do you want me to go?"
"As far as your capabilities and emotions push you," he said. "I like my women submitting to me completely. Don't you want to become someone who can rely on me one hundred percent? Someone who can rest assured that no harm in this world would ever reach you?"
Nami was quiet for a long moment.
"No," she said.
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