mihns

Recently, we received notice from our building’s owner that NAMNAM Space’s lease will not be renewed. We are being asked to move out by the end of October. We have investigated all possible means of pushing back but have concluded that, unfortunately, we will need to vacate our space. Though we were not expecting this news, we are not entirely surprised. Gentrification has been slowly but steadily taking root in Koenji. Other units in our building have been converted into Air Bnb’s and we suspect that similar plans have been made for our space.

Now, don’t panic. This is by no means the end of NAMNAM Space, but WE NEED YOUR HELP.

Over the next few months, we will be: 1) fundraising for the move 2) searching for a new space

We will need all hands on deck. Do you know a #woke real estate agent? Let us know! Have a mysterious wealthy aunt who lives with her “roommate” of many years? Send her our Chuffed link.

Speaking of the Chuffed, we will have the fundraising link available in our story highlights, as well as in the link in our bio and on our website. Please feel free to share it far and wide!

Whether we find a new space or not, we plan to continue our work as usual. Your attendance to, participation in, and sharing of our future events are critical to the future of this project and we thank you in advance!

We are so grateful for the time we have had in Koenji and even more so for the consistent support of our community. You all have packed so much love into our little room on the fourth floor, transforming it from a storage closet into something big, radical, and so so queer. Yes, we are angry, but we are also excited to see what this next chapter has in store! Gay audacity has gotten us this far …

Much love, NAMNAM Space Staff

Honestly, with everything else that happened, I was just glad Marco didn’t take the opportunity to scold me. Maybe since it had been on Whitebeard’s orders that I sparred that second time he wasn’t going to give me hell. Hard to chastise the new guy when the boss is the one that pushed you.

Tomorrow is going to be busy too, since there will be a celebration for my joining the crew. 

I might request bed rest for a week honestly. I have no idea what a Whitebeard Pirate Crew party is going to be like, but if the official art had been any indication it was going to be wonderful. Music, booze and a decibel level worthy of ear protection that no one’s going to be wearing.

“There we go.” Haruta says, making sure I’m actually steady on the bed before he lets go. 

“My knight in shining silk.” I tease, rubbing the fabric of his shirt sleeve between my fingers.

“It’s cotton, I’m not Izou.” He snorts. 

“The style's from your home island, or something else?” I don’t even know if I’ll be awake long enough to get the answer, but curiosity compels me.

“… I was a prince.” He says, an answer surprising enough it keeps my eyes open. “I thought you knew everything?”

“A lot,” I correct with a yawn. “I just know a lot. Not everything.”

“My brother made sure I got away, and Pops found me.” He says simply and I nod.

“Cotton.” I hum.

“Cotton.” He has a grin on his face and I feel like that’s enough. It’s very silky cotton, but I can tease him about that on another day.

The sun was barely set when I fell asleep yesterday, and when I wake up, it’s still working on rising. I’m no longer surprised to see my body’s changed yet again, but I’m amused by what stays the same and what doesn’t. 

My genitals can’t seem to make up their fucking minds, but my freckles haven’t moved in any significant manner, my hair is shock white every time and my eyes are kind of creepy actually. Pitch black looking when they’re shaded, and a deep jewel blue when the sunlight gets in there. 

Useful, maybe, but as far as Marco has been able to tell, they don’t change shade or shape from one day to the next. It’s just weird. I thought maybe I was speed running my past lives or something, but other things should be changing if that was the case. Height, weight, even my race. I was an elf once before and my hair was always something darker than this.

Standing up and stretching, I’m struck with another odd sensation. Lighting the nearby lamp I look over my hands and arms.

There’s not a mark on me. I don’t feel sore either. I should very much feel sore, and I don’t. 

“Am I literally getting a new body every time I sleep?” I mutter the words to no one in particular, snuffing the lamp before I go back to stretching. 

Usually you need to do repeated stretching to maintain flexibility, and to build up strength. Repetition and practice give you good form and enhanced ability. Combat experience is something you can have in your mind alone, because I’ve definitely benefited from that benefit in earlier lives before even getting to this one.

I would’ve died a very young elf in my ninth life if I hadn’t had the experiences from prior lives to help me.

But I had the same body in that life. This one seems fairly capable of fighting as it is, so it might be enough, but am I stuck with the same muscle mass, flexibility, and stamina I have now? That’s not impossible to work with, especially if I can reach advanced haki states.

But, I’d rather a set body. 

Having at least one thing be stable would be really nice. I don’t have any memories of this life to help ground me, and I don’t have a body I can adjust to, to give me some kind of stable foundation. I might be able to get used to the ever-changing body, but if it ever changed into something brand new once I was used to this, that could be an issue.

“Fuck,” the swear slips from my lips with a heavy sigh. It took me a couple lives to stop falling apart just at the idea of being alive, and a couple more lives after that to really figure out the best ways to ground myself.

I head a really good system going on the last four or five lives, frankly, but all my tricks for staying sane have been completely ruined in this life. Without a childhood I’ve lost the foundation of this world. Sure, I know a lot through the story, but I know it through the lens of that single narration.

There’s no first hand knowledge on my part.

Yes, this body stays mostly the same, but it doesn’t stay the same. At least when my body changed with water, I knew I had been born a boy, and that the change was a girl. I didn’t care that I changed, I had already been three different distinct sexes by that point. But there was a sense of who I was that I could hold onto, and I had some control over when I changed.

Aside from sleep I don’t know what changes this body. Do I need to dream to cause it? Do I just need to lower my heart rate? Do I need to simply be unconscious? Well, being asleep and being unconscious are two different things, but also would I change if someone put me into a medical coma?

I bounced back from who knows how long out at sea in two days, what exactly are the parameters to what I can survive?

“Oh, you’re up, yoi.” Marco says, stepping into the room. I got so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice the sun had come up.

“Not for too long.” I answer the unasked question. “Feeling good today.”

“No bruises or soreness?” 

“Nope. Never would’ve guessed I did anything yesterday.” I’m sure he’s picking up on the nervousness in my voice, I’m not trying to hide it.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

“Figure it out in a stab me and see how fast I heal sort of way, or…?” I prompt and Marco looks at me with a very concerned expression. “I didn’t mean fatally.” 

I feel like I can see the long-suffering already settling into his bones. It’s been three days. He’s not going to survive me. That’s going to be my cost for living in this world, I’m going to manage to kill the one character that’s practically indestructible on a legendary scale, and I’m going to do it through stress.

There’s a long enough silence I can’t stop myself. “You’re mad that a controlled cut in a controlled environment would actually be more—.”

“Yes.” He interrupts me, “I am.”

I laugh as he starts to go through the whole check up routine. It seems a bit pointless to me, but I’m not going to argue with him. I’m certainly putting him through enough as it is.

“I promise not to get stabbed without your supervision.” I offer and he just gives me a sideways glance. 

It’s quickly gotten comfortable being around him, but it’s hard to ignore how beautiful he is. At least to me. The scruff of facial hair along his chin, the blonde, wind-swept hair that seems untameable on the top, the sides shaved and kept short in some last ditch effort to keep it under control. 

Honey brown eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The light blonde hair on his arms, the scent of ocean air, pineapples and soap mixing with something like maple wood and leather. 

Gods it’s distracting.

“You’re quiet this morning.”

“… Yeah.” I clear my throat. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even really know how to act. The best I can do is try to hold him at a distance because I swear by the seas if he gives me an inch I’m going to ride him until I pass out. 

“Hungry, I guess.” I offer, trying my best to sound like I’m talking about Thatch’s cooking. It is really good cooking, admittedly.

“Celebrations won’t start until after lunch, so take it easy.” He says, patting my shoulder. “We don’t know what your alcohol tolerance is either, so try not to let the others pressure you into drinking too much.”

“Sure thing, doc.” I know I’m not a subtle person, but I really hope I’m subtle enough to make it out of the infirmary without it looking like I was running away. Especially since I was definitely running away.

After checking the coast is clear I leap over the banister off to the side of the door way that leads into the mess hall. I don’t feel like announcing my arrival today, but I also don’t want to land on someone either. When my feet hit the deck I realize I’ve forgotten my shoes. Again.

“Oh, you must be the newbie.” 

I’m grateful the voice is behind me. I’m glad I have a couple seconds to get my face under control. The sound of it makes my blood run cold, and what I really want to do is turn around and beat him to death with my own two hands.

But I can’t.

Turning around I do my best to look like I have no idea who Marshall D. Teach is, or what all he’s willing to do to get what he wants.

“Yup, that’d be me.” I try to pretend I’m talking to Mcguy, or Karma, or one of the other subordinate captains whose names I know, but not much else about them. Nice clean slate.

“Heard you sparred with Pops yesterday,” his gaze shifts down and back up. Maybe if I pretend he’s Squard. Means well, even if I want to pop him one in the nose for falling for that marine bullshit.

Not that Marineford has happened yet.

“Don’t look it.”

“Doc’s a good doc.” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “It wasn’t much of a spar anyway. I just tried to actually hit him a few times and eventually he knocked me outta the air. I thought the whole ship saw me get clocked.”

“Just got back last night,” he says. He doesn’t look overly interested in me aside from the fact that I’m new. If anything he looks like he’s trying to be at least marginally friendly. His entire thing was sliding in under the radar until he found what he was looking for, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Welcome back?” I’m not really sure what to say, but my confusion gets Teach to laugh a little. A chuckle at my expense, is better than him catching onto how much I want to punch him. 

“Teach,” he says, inclining his head a little. Well, at least he’s not trying to shake my hand, I don’t know if I could handle that.

“… Driftwood,” I offer up. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give my shiny new name to this asshole before anyone else. He can learn it when Pops announces it later on. “At least for now.” 

Teach hums, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to delay my getting breakfast any longer. With as friendly a wave as I can give him, I head into the mess hall and grab one of the larger trays. I’m starving hungry. I did not eat enough yesterday.

“I think that tray weighs almost as much as you,” one of the crew teases.

“Here’s hoping I weigh twice as much when I’m done eating it.” I retort, sitting down with my tray of food. The laughs that crop up around me are warm. It’s the kind of teasing I could get used to.

“Got a name yet, driftwood?” It’s Happygun. I’m glad he’s still aboard, but I hope his ship’s back in shape soon. I imagine it feels a little intimidating being on the Moby when you’re used to being your own captain.

“Pops is gonna announce it to everyone during the celebration later.” I reply, a few bites into my food before I realize everyone else is quiet. “What?” I prompt as best I can with a mouthful of food.

“Fastest I’ve seen someone go from callin’ him Captain to Pops.” Happygun says. “I think it just caught us all off guard.”

“Not to sound like a sap,” I say, with every intention of sounding like a sap. “But y’all are literally the only people I know. Having a bunch of brothers and an intimidating dad is the best thing I got going for me right now.” 

“Awww!” The chorus of the sound is a little embarrassing, but having a bunch of massive men coo in the same key is adorable. I’m already braced for the hands that ruffle my hair, and pull me into a side hug. I make a show of scrambling back to my food, threatening someone’s hand with my fork before I can get back to my plate.

After breakfast I go get my shoes, lingering in the infirmary room for a little bit. Without a patient in it, there’s no doctor or nurse, but I feel like I can see the echo of Marco in the room. 

I’m going to have to decide what to do about him, sooner rather than later. My original crush on him was a crush on a man that didn’t exist. I know more about his past that probably anyone except Pops does on this crew, mostly because I don’t imagine he brought it up a whole lot.

I know the goofy kid he was, and the events of a youth that I might not even have been born when they happened. 

I know what his fucking dad looks like.

But do I know him? Do I know Marco of this world? Do all my assumptions and presumptions equate into anything like what he is, or do I have the hots for a fiction, even as the real thing stands in front of me?

There’s nothing wrong with just being attracted to him. He’s hot. He’s really hot. He is unfairly hot in ways that make me kind of angry actually. How dare Oda draw him like that when he looks like this! The necessity of simplistic design for a long running manga with a cast of well over 100 characters is not an excuse.

He’s more like— 

“Berf!” I know I didn’t walk into a wall, but I object at the sound that escaped me when I walked into some immovable object that decided to be in my path while I wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh? Sorry about that.” The deep gravel voice isn’t the giveaway so much as the strong scent of cigar smoke that turns my way. 

One hand over my nose, I put the other up. “S’alright.” Reminder again to work on my observation haki, because I’m a fucking sneeze compared to these mountains.

“Fossa,” he says, offering a hand the size of my head.

“Quill,” I say, grabbing his index finger with one hand and shaking it. “Formerly known as driftwood.”

He laughs and I’m reminded a bit of Pops’ laugh. It hums against my bones, but it doesn’t rattle me down to my toes.

“You’re why we’re celebratin’ later today.” 

“Indeed. Though I doubt y’all need me as a reason for celebration.” 

He laughs again and this one does threaten to rattle my teeth a little. “Truer words, little Quill.”

I don’t think I’m going to bother pointing out that there’s not a taller Quill on this ship, or the fact that nearly everyone else is little from his perspective. It seems like a Fossa thing. I can picture him calling Marco little too.

Marco-chan.

I snort, but keep the thought to myself. I don’t know if Fossa even notices, his attention already turned back toward something else. Tipping myself to one side so I can see around him, I notice what he’s watching.

“Oh wow!” 

Darting around Fossa I steady myself at the banister and lean forward to get a better look. 

The Whitebeard Pirates are fishing for the night’s feast. I’ve never had sea king before, but considering the beast they’re dealing with is more than twice as high as the sails of the ship, that’s what it has to be. If it isn’t, then I’ll admit I’m a bit terrified to think about ever actually coming across one.

They’ve got to be a kilometer away, but the wide seas and clear skies make it possible to see what’s going on. I’m not entirely sure everyone that’s involved in it, but there’s some schooners that are closer to it than we are. I’m pretty sure Whitebeard himself is out there.

A shout goes out along the Moby Dick, but I don’t catch what the word is. Fossa grabs the back of my shirt like I’m some cat, and steadies me against the banister a second before the canons fire off a volley. I’ve heard canon fire before, but not a solid dozen all at once like that. The boom feels like it should rend the ship apart, but the Moby barely even sways. 

Focusing on the canon balls I try to utilize observation haki. No time like the present to get some practice in. The shift in the landscape is a little jarring, but I can make out dozens of forms from this distance, and the cracking of the air as Newgate’s devil fruit batters the sea king and alters the trajectory of the canon balls.

This man is in his decline and it’s mesmerizing and terrifying to watch him work.

“Ever had sea king meat before?” Fossa asks me and I laugh. 

“I only remember the last four days!” I yell just before another volley of canon balls goes off. “Is this always how it works?”

“When we’re lucky enough to find ‘em outside the calm belt, yup.” 

“… Are you saying you enter the calm belt to hunt them?” I question nervously.

Fossa laughs. “Sometimes, little Quill, sometimes! Watch, they’re almost done.” 

When you live long enough, you see a lot of things. You experience a lot of things too, but often a world is too wide and wondrous for you to do everything. I’ve seen people hunt, and I’ve needed to do it myself. Small game like rabbits and game birds like turkeys and pheasants. 

I’ve been a part of hunting troops that brought down larger prey, more like moose or whales. I’ve even watched a battalion of knights take down a dragon, with a bit of support from the local magic guild.

But sea kings make dragons look small, and while the king and crew of the Moby Dick are larger than most knights, they’re ants next to that sea king same as any knight is next to a dragon.

Bringing a beast 100 times bigger down with a fraction of the fighters. Emperors and their crews are kind of terrifying.

Once the beast was down every ship descended upon it like piranha in a frenzy. Everything that could be carved, sorted, and stored, was, and the beast’s own hide and bone was used to make hurried rafts so even more of it could be salvaged. If the crew wasn’t eating sea king meat for the next five months it would only be because they decided to sell some of it to the islands they visited.

Considering how efficiently they made work of one, I’m pretty sure this was something they did regularly.

There’s only so much treasure you can go out into the wide world and find, so I suppose it makes sense that you’d have some kind of revenue stream that was a little more reliable. I always figured they had a side hustle moving people and cargo from one island to another. I never really read about merchant vessels, and aside from the occasional cruise-liner kind of ship, there wasn’t a vast network of cargo ships.

With the rise of the pirate era, there would be marine escorts needed for something like that, and most marines were busy keeping noble and celestial boats safe. Merchants wouldn’t be able to afford decent protection, and I imagine before Roger’s execution the best way to get from one island to the next was to roll the dice on a pirate ship.

“I want to hunt a sea king.” 

“You can fight?” Fossa asks and I laugh. 

“Yes, I can.”

“Can you swim?” 

“Pops can’t swim.”

“Pops ain’t who I’m asking.” He teases and I shrug.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I haven’t been back into the water since I got hauled out of it. And I don’t remember how I ended up in it in the first place.” I make a motion with my arms. “I understand the theory though.”

“Bad time to just throw you over board and see what happens.”

I take a step away from him, squinting up at him. “Indeed. I’d rather wait until I’m more comfortable with haki before I splatter against the water from this height.”

“Oh? We have some time while the divisions and auxiliary crews deal with the sea king and the preparations, I could give you some pointers.” He offers. 

My mind stutters for just a second, officially there’s a lot of powerful characters that aren’t listed as having haki, but honestly it would be insane to think the commanders of an Emperor were out slaying sea kings without basic haki. Since anyone can learn two of the three types, it would be a bit wild for pirates on the Grand Line of all places to not at least have the basics.

I feel like you don’t survive long without them, unless you’re surrounded by a powerful crew. So maybe there’s a fair number of people on this ship that don’t actually have those skills.

I’d be too nervous, personally. But I have issues with relying on others for my survival.

“Haki pointers? I was going to spar, but now it feels too late.” I admit.

“Haki pointers.” He says. “How do you visualize it?”

Blinking at him, I tilt my head. “Visualize it?”

The way Fossa looks at me for a second I’m expecting his cigar to fall out of his mouth. I don’t want to try and catch it, but I’m worried it’s secretly impact dynamite and if it hits the deck it will explode.

“You’ve used it, yeah?”

I nod. “I sparred with Maren and Pops yesterday, and I definitely used it.”

“How didja activate it?” He questions, crouching down to be more at my level.

“I… uh… just… felt it?” I offer up as best I can. It’s really difficult to explain that I can practically feel haki all around me, and I think maybe I shouldn’t say that out loud.

Ever.

But it makes sense, that the energy required to fuel enhanced martial prowess would be so prevalent. If you needed to be able to cultivate it then it wouldn’t be something everyone could do. It would be something only those who could figure out how to breathe, or meditate, or whatever correctly. Everyone would treat all three kinds like something you were born able to do, or not.

“… I’m almost afraid ta have you try and visualize it.” He admits. “C’mon.”

Fossa has enough of a gait I’m jogging to keep up, but he walks us to a patch of open deck with pretty much no one around. They’re all on the other side, hauling in sea beast pieces and parts. I imagine plenty of it is going to get dried, pickled, and otherwise preserved. 

Fossa points to a barrel, and I hop up and sit on it, crossing my ankles and putting my hands on my knees. He motions and speaks at the same time.

“Stand on it, I just don’t wanna keep bending over to get a proper look.” He explains. I snort, but hop onto my feet easily enough.

“Not my fault this is a ship of giants in training,” I tease, making Fossa laugh.

“Focus, gnat.” He retorts and I nod. “Do ya remember how blood flows in yer body?”

“Yeah.” There’s the blood vessels, and a lymphatic system, and a nervous system, and there’s also martial circuits and magic circuits that can often be entirely separate systems in a body as well. But, again, I don’t want to get into that and risk him dropping his cigar again.

“Haki follows a similar circuit in your body, so if you visualize a simple version of how your blood flows through you,” He points with one massive finger, starting at my heart and moving along as he speaks, going back to my heart a few times. “It flows out from here to your limbs. If it’s easier to visualize a single flow, you can do that, but if you can imagine it heading out in several directions, that’s even better. 

“Takes it trip out, and then comes back.” He explains. “Visualizing the flow helps focus the thing. Focus is what you need while you’re learning more than anything else. Even someone like Pops can get into trouble if he loses focus.”

“With armament haki you want to visualize it as the armor it’s meant to be. Keepin’ it wrapped close to yer body.” Fossa continues to explain.

“With observation haki I want to… uh… reach out with it? Or let it like, pulse out into the air?” I’m not really sure if he’ll understand me if I use the word radar, I don’t remember seeing anything like that in the original story.

Least not on ships. Maybe on Egghead.

“Yeah! You kind of chase after it, seeing what it sees.” He says. “When you get really good you can run ahead of it, that’s how you can see something a few seconds out.”

Fossa stuck around and answered my questions, letting me practice a little bit. I’d try and see the ship again, asking him if I was seeing things right, for him to do the same and then let me know.  I think he was just as happy to have someone to teach, as I was happy to have someone answer all my questions. 

I was trying not to get too technical, seeing as not everyone knew about my reincarnation as yet. But, I was right. My initial assumption that haki was similar to ki seemed pretty spot on. At least in terms of function. 

Fossa talked about things like visualizing a faster flow, or a more complex network, to advance your control, and it’s definitely something I can work on. I think being able to actually feel it is going to be a big help. Given everything I know about this world, I’m going to need every advantage I can muster.

I highly doubt this body belonged to anyone with the initial D, or someone with conquerer’s haki. It’s a huge world, sure, but it was also a huge cast, if there was another clan D member or something like that, there would’ve been an SBS at the least.

I need enough strength to do what I want to do, assuming I can get the all clear from Pops after my predictions come true. It’s not much of an assumption, I’m pretty certain he’ll say yes. Newgate lets his children run wild and free, with very few restrictions and the protection of the man himself.