The skiff scraped against the weathered dock with a sound that shot through Sora's exhausted brain like a knife. Dawn had barely broken over Shells Town, the sun a reluctant visitor peeking through wisps of morning fog. He stepped onto the wooden planks, his legs wobbly after hours on the water.
What struck him first wasn't the sight of the town slowly materializing through the mist, but the absence of something crucial: noise. No fishmongers hawking their morning catch, no sailors shouting orders, no clatter of carts on cobblestone. Only the plaintive cries of seagulls and the soft lapping of waves against the pilings broke the unnatural silence.
"Something's wrong with this place," Sora muttered, his eyes scanning the eerily quiet waterfront.
Nami hauled herself onto the dock beside him, her movements sluggish from her overnight vigil. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, but her gaze remained alert as it swept over their surroundings.
She pointed to the bulging sack of treasure still nestled in their boat. "You're the muscle. You carry it."
Sora shot her a flat look, but couldn't argue with the logic. He was the stronger of the two, and they both knew it. Without complaint, he hefted the ridiculously heavy sack over his shoulder, surprised by how its weight barely troubled him. His new body had its perks.
"Lead the way, boss," he said, adjusting his grip on the treasure. "Though to where, I have no idea."
They walked in silence, moving from the deserted harbor into narrow streets that should have been bustling with morning activity. Instead, windows were shuttered tight, doors firmly closed. The few people they did see darted along the edges of buildings, heads down, eyes averted, moving with the hunched urgency of prey.
A woman gathering water from a public well saw them approaching and abandoned her half-filled bucket, retreating inside a nearby house without a backward glance.
"Friendly locals," Sora remarked dryly.
Nami yanked him into a narrow alleyway, her fingers digging into his arm with surprising strength. Her expression was suddenly serious, all traces of exhaustion momentarily banished.
"Listen to me," she whispered, glancing toward the street. "This isn't a joke. The Marine base here isn't protection—it's what everyone's afraid of."
"The Marines?" Sora frowned. "Aren't they supposed to be the good guys?"
She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "Captain 'Axe-Hand' Morgan runs this base. Trust me, 'good' isn't in his vocabulary."
"Axe-Hand? Like, he has an actual axe for a hand?"
"Yes," she said flatly. "Literally an axe for a hand. And he rules this town like his personal kingdom. The last time I passed through here, a child was nearly executed for accidentally bumping into his son."
Sora absorbed this information, adding another piece to his mental map of this strange world. "Alright, I get it. Low profile. So where's the black market? Let's find a fence, sell this stuff, and get a room. I'm dead on my feet."
Nami stared at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Are you an idiot?" she hissed. "We're in a Marine-controlled town, carrying a giant bag of stolen goods, looking like we just crawled out of the ocean. The first thing we do is become invisible." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "We find a place to lie low, clean up, and stash the contraband. Then we figure out how to move the merchandise. Amateurs get caught. We are not amateurs."
She glared up at him, daring him to challenge her expertise.
Sora raised his free hand in surrender. "Lead on, O wise master thief."
"That's more like it," she muttered, peering out of the alley before motioning him to follow.
They wove through side streets and back alleys, avoiding the main thoroughfares. Nami moved with the confidence of someone who had memorized escape routes in her sleep, and Sora found himself admiring her navigational sense. It matched her skill on the water—an innate understanding of space and direction.
After about twenty minutes of careful maneuvering, they arrived at a small, two-story building tucked away on a quiet side street. A weather-beaten wooden sign hung over the door, depicting a pillow and the words "Maple Leaf Inn" in faded paint.
"It's not fancy," Nami said, "but the owner minds her own business."
The interior was dim and slightly musty, but clean. A counter separated the small lobby from what appeared to be a dining area, where a few empty tables waited for guests who never came. Behind the counter stood an older woman with silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun. Deep lines framed her eyes and mouth—the kind etched by years of worry, not laughter.
Nami approached with a warm smile that transformed her tired face. "Good morning! Two rooms, please. Just for a day or two."
The innkeeper looked between them, her gaze lingering on the bulging sack over Sora's shoulder. If she suspected its contents, she gave no indication.
"Two rooms," she repeated, consulting a ledger. "That'll be 18,000 Berries per night. Each."
"What?" Nami's smile faltered. "That's highway robbery!"
The woman's expression softened apologetically. "I'm sorry, miss. We hardly get visitors. Those who do come pay a premium." She lowered her voice. "Half of it goes straight to the Marine base as 'taxes.' It's that or close our doors for good."
Nami's shoulders slumped. She turned to Sora, her smile now strained and artificial. "Okay, muscle. Pay up. I'll reimburse you from our... merchandise."
Sora just stared at her blankly. Then he patted his empty pockets in an exaggerated display, turning them inside out for emphasis. "Sorry, boss. I'm flat broke. Like, absolutely nothing."
Nami's eye twitched. She turned back to the innkeeper, the muscles in her jaw working. "One room, then."
More haggling followed, but the innkeeper couldn't budge much on the price. When she finally handed over the key, Nami snatched it with barely concealed frustration. As they headed for the stairs, she leaned in close to Sora's ear.
"One bed," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. "And if you so much as breathe on me, I'm charging you one million Berries. Got it?"
"That seems like a steep markup," Sora replied with a smirk. "But I'm a gentleman. Your virtue is safe with me."
"My virtue has nothing to do with it," she snapped.
The room was exactly what he expected—small, spartan, and utterly unremarkable. A single bed with a faded quilt dominated the space, flanked by a rickety nightstand. A washbasin stood in one corner, and a narrow window overlooked an alley. The floorboards creaked under their weight as they entered.
Sora dropped the treasure sack with a heavy thump that seemed to shake the entire room. He rolled his shoulder, working out the stiffness, and made a beeline for the bed. His body cried out for a comfortable bed.
"Not yet," Nami said sharply, catching his arm.
What followed fascinated him. He watched as Nami moved around the tiny room with brisk efficiency, securing their temporary sanctuary. First, she locked the door, then wedged a chair under the handle. She checked the window, not just the latch but the frame itself, testing for weakness. From her bag, she extracted a thin piece of string, which she tied from the door handle to a glass on the nightstand—a makeshift alarm.
Only when she'd completed her ritual did she exhale, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
"Impressive," Sora said, genuinely meaning it. "You do this everywhere you go?"
She gave him a look that suggested his question was idiotic. "I steal from pirates. Do you think they just say 'oh well' and forget about it?"
"The Cat Burglar," he murmured, understanding the moniker in a new light.
They stood in awkward silence, both suddenly aware of how small the room was, how intimate their shared space had become. The weight of their exhaustion crashed down simultaneously, making the prospect of arguing about sleeping arrangements seem pointless.
Nami looked at the bed, then at the hard wooden floor, a calculation playing out behind her eyes. She sighed, resignation winning over pride.
"Just stay on your side," she said finally, kicking off her shoes.
Sora blinked in surprise. "What happened to the floor?"
"Changed my mind. That floor's disgusting, and I'm not that cruel." She gave him a warning look. "But the million Berry fee still stands."
They approached the bed from opposite sides like duelists, caution in every movement. Sora lay down first, staying rigidly on his half. Nami followed, creating a careful gap between them.
The mattress was thin but infinitely better than wooden boards or a rocking boat. Sora felt his body melting into it, his eyelids growing heavier by the second.
"I won't snore," he promised, his voice already thick with approaching sleep. "Recruit's honor."
"Were you ever actually a recruit?" she asked, staring at the ceiling.
"No. But it sounds more trustworthy than 'thief's honor,' doesn't it?"
A small snort of laughter escaped her, quickly suppressed.
Silence fell, broken only by their breathing and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Outside, the town remained unnaturally quiet, as if holding its breath. Inside, in their tiny room, a different sort of tension built—not fear, but something more complex, more intimate.
Sora lay awake despite his exhaustion, acutely aware of Nami's presence inches away. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body, smell the faint traces of salt and something citrusy—tangerines, perhaps—clinging to her hair. In the dim light filtering through the curtained window, he could just make out the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
His mind wandered back to Maki and the revelation of his power. Should he tell Nami?
Nah, that would be stupid.
His thoughts were interrupted by Nami's voice, soft in the darkness. "You said you wanted to stand at the top. What did you mean by that?"
He turned his head to find her watching him, her brown eyes reflecting what little light there was.
"Exactly what it sounds like," he answered. "I want to experience everything this world has to offer. The highest peaks, the deepest oceans. The finest food, the most beautiful sights." He grinned. "And to do that, I need to be powerful enough that no one can tell me no. No government, no pirate, no god."
"Ambitious," she murmured.
"So, that million Berry rule," he said, changing the subject with a teasing lilt in his voice. "Does it work both ways? What's the payout if you touch me?"
He expected a sharp retort, maybe a kick under the covers. Instead, there was a moment of weighted silence. Then, to his shock, he felt a warm pressure against his chest. He looked down to see her hand resting over his heart, her fingers splayed across his pectoral muscle.
The simple contact sent an electric jolt through him that had nothing to do with exhaustion.
"Consider it... a down payment," she said quietly. "For what you did on that ship. You were a reckless idiot... but you came back for me. So, this one's free."
Her hand remained on his chest, a point of heat that seemed to burn through the fabric of his shirt.
"Just this once," she added, the familiar edge returning to her voice.
"Noted," he replied, surprised by the roughness in his own throat.
Another silence followed, but different from before. Something had shifted between them—a wall lowered, if only slightly.
"Hey, Sora..." Nami's voice took on a new tone. Her hand withdrew from his chest, but the warmth lingered. "How do you feel about Marines?"
The question seemed odd given their earlier conversation. "Based on what you've told me, not particularly fond. Why?"
He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. "Because I heard a rumor. A rumor about a map to the Grand Line, locked away in the safe of a certain tyrannical Captain..."
Sora turned fully toward her now, sleep forgotten. "And you want it."
"Not just want it. Need it." Her eyes gleamed with ambition that matched his own. "The Grand Line is where the real treasure is. And I'm not just talking about gold."
"You're proposing we rob Marine headquarters," he said slowly. "The same Marines who have this entire town terrified. The ones with the axe-handed captain."
"That's exactly what I'm proposing." She propped herself up on one elbow, her face animated despite her exhaustion. "Think about it. Everyone's too scared to even look at the place. Which means security will be lax—they rely on fear, not actual vigilance."
"And you need me because...?"
She poked him in the chest, right where her hand had rested moments before. "Because you're strong. And crazy. And apparently have a death wish. All qualities I look for in a partner for high-risk heists."
"Partner?" He raised an eyebrow. "What happened to going our separate ways after selling the treasure?"
Nami shrugged, a casual gesture belied by the intensity in her eyes. "Plans change. This could be mutually beneficial. I get the map, you get... let's say thirty percent of whatever we find using it."
"Forty," he countered automatically.
"Thirty-five, and that's robbery."
Sora laughed softly. "Says the actual thief."
She smiled then, a genuine smile that transformed her face. In that moment, exhausted and disheveled, lying in a shabby inn in a town gripped by fear, she was breathtaking.
"So?" she pressed. "Are you in? Or are you not as ambitious as you claimed?"
Sora thought of Maki, waiting to be called forth. Thought of the power he now had at his fingertips. A Marine base would be the perfect testing ground.
"I'm in," he said.
"Deal." Nami settled back down, closer than before, the careful gap between them now halved. "Good night, Sora."
"Good night, Nami."