On the second floor, a night breeze drifted through the window gap, and the sheet in Luffy's hand conveniently flew into Nami's.
Nami had always thought Luffy was a blockheaded piece of rubber. Maybe there was an ironclad conviction in that head—she never doubted that—but he absolutely had no sense of romance.
Like that time he woke from a dream shouting that his future crew would include a talking reindeer and a yo-ho-ho-ing skeleton. This sea lacks nothing; as long as your imagination is big enough, anything can happen.
In her mind his head should contain meat and "I'm going to be Pirate King." That was very Luffy.
So what was this?
She stared at the white sheet, at the lifelike portrait of herself. The sigh Luffy had just let out made the answer obvious.
Wait—that wasn't the point. The point was—
"Are you a pervert?!"
"Such a lech!"
"Why didn't you draw me any clothes!"
Her face flushed scarlet, especially when she saw the human anatomy sketch Luffy had drawn behind it. Put together, the two pages invited certain thoughts.
And it was drawn so realistically.
Anyone would think she'd posed as his figure model.
Did he really have a photographic memory?
Nami recalled the way his eyes had scanned her not long ago.
Hard not to suspect it. The guy even remembered that tiny mole there. One coincidence was a coincidence; a string of them left her out of excuses.
Luffy was silent.
He could say it was an accident, right?
He had just put down whatever he thought was beautiful, and the Going Merry was there too. The only problem was that, when he sketched his own anatomy to map muscles, vessels, and organs, he naturally left off clothes. Habit, maybe.
He'd felt it was off and was about to add clothes to Nami's portrait when that damned breeze came.
Warning. Warning…
The familiar voice snapped him back. His eyes went dead. That sound was infuriating, like a yodeler whispering at his ear.
"I didn't know what outfit to draw," Luffy tossed out.
Judging by Nami's face, nothing he said would matter.
So he gave up.
He couldn't defy that cursed schedule, but he could defy Nami.
Soft persimmons still get squeezed.
"Then look carefully now!"
Hands on hips, she puffed up like a bristling kitten.
She still carried the warmth of the bath, hair half damp, a rosy glow on her bright face. Luffy zoned out a moment—some things can't be captured by lines or words, the most beautiful stances.
No wonder Nojiko said Nami had great taste in clothes.
Up top she wore a white cropped tee, snow-pale arms bare. A pleated skirt showed off straight thighs, and, as if she'd taken his earlier comment about where his eyes had gone to heart, she'd pulled on black pantyhose that wrapped her from the ankles up, her slim calves tight with no hint of excess.
"Well? Satisfied?"
Cooling from her flare of temper, she suddenly felt mortified and averted her gaze, eyes shining.
"Huh? What?"
Only then did Luffy jolt back. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else."
Her expression changed at once. Luffy watched her fold her arms and fix him with a look he couldn't read.
Was it colder in here?
"Nami, uh…"
"I'm very curious what else you could be thinking about."
"Like… other outfits?" Luffy glanced at her. "And why that outfit? You decided on your own. If it's my request, shouldn't I get to choose?"
When did he get so sharp?
Nami stalled. Somehow they'd walked into a strange trap. All she'd wanted was to burn one of his two conditions.
Put reason on a person and they'll press any advantage. Luffy yanked her from the high ground, leaving her unsteady.
"W-what do you want to see?"
"Didn't Nojiko say there was a maid outfit?" He honestly didn't know many outfit names.
"So you really are a pervert." Nami lunged over and yanked his cheeks.
"You said you couldn't refuse."
"I…" Hoisted by her own promise, she lowered her voice. "Can't we switch?"
"Could you just—"
The warnings droned in his ear. He was sick of them. What, he couldn't even look? After a day like this he couldn't relax for a second?
His tone hardened for an instant. The moment the words left his mouth he muttered, too late, and sure enough Nami let go of his face. Blushing harder, arms crossed, she shot him a misty, wounded look.
"Why so fierce…"
That expression was foul play.
He hadn't meant that. The words stuck, and to his own surprise he felt a flicker of anticipation.
This was all that ridiculous voice and its punishments, opening some new door in his head. Before this he wouldn't have cared at all.
Nami went to dig for clothes.
Luffy checked the time. The day was basically over. Tomorrow would pay back the time anyway. He let himself drop out of that razor focus.
"Are your things packed?"
"Nojiko helped. There isn't much to take. But the villagers wanted to thank us and brought lots of supplies."
For sailing, supplies could matter more than money, especially with a big eater like Luffy aboard.
That reminded Nami of something.
"Luffy, could we leave some of the money Arlong extorted for Cocoyasi Village?"
"They really need it."
"I'd do anything for that."
"Anything?" Luffy frowned.
She realized the double meaning and floundered.
"N-not like that. I meant—"
"I know. Which means I still have two requests you can't refuse, right?"
No, that's not—!
She wanted to cry. How she missed the Luffy she'd first met.
She fumed, and, worse, couldn't find the outfit. Nojiko had been right—Nami loved buying nice clothes just to keep for herself. Maid outfits were for her eyes only. Her taste was impeccable.
"Wait here."
She clicked out to look for Nojiko. How could the maid outfit go missing? Only Nojiko had access to her room. Luffy yawned. Another exhausting day, and bad news—tomorrow might be worse.
The Pirate King Training Plan even came with time reimbursement. It made him furious and helpless.
Like a tin can rolling into your base and your useless husband can only watch it explode.
Fine, obey.
He didn't believe they could squeeze twenty-five hours from a day.
He stretched, then, in the gaps between warnings, scavenged minutes wherever he could.
Rebellion was the theme.
The sun would rise tomorrow. At worst it'd be another twenty-three-hour grind. Could they erase sleep entirely?
Nami's room had a bookcase and walls of sea charts. With a little knowledge in him now, he found them stunning. The dates showed she'd started drawing them as a kid.
It fit the saying: outside the trade I'm a frog at the well-mouth, staring at the moon; inside it I'm an ant looking up at the sky.
What had he done at that age?
Training with Ace.
He missed that time. When would they meet again?
Relax, and drowsiness crept in. Midnight neared. A new day. Finally, sleep.
The warnings in his head became a lullaby.
"Luffy? Wake up, wake up." Nami's voice held a scolding lilt. Then he felt himself being dragged. "This is my room. At least make a pallet on the floor. Otherwise why'd I pull you in here?"
Warning. Warning…
"Sorry."
He jerked and sat up—then saw Nami in a maid outfit.
"One request fulfilled. Happy now?" She was all reluctance, left hand on her right arm, head tipped, eyes flashing when she felt his gaze, like she was staring down trash.
But her flushed face made the whole scene dangerously alluring. To a bystander, it would look like rewarding a pervert.