He always got lost. And she - she was a navigator. / Zoro, Nami
.
He’d always watch her, like a hawk.
Everything about that person screamed “suspicious”, and Zoro always relied on his warrior’s gut. There was another layer to all of her actions, he was sure of it, so it was just a matter of time before he’d discover who Cat Burglar Nami truly was.
The thing is, he didn’t trust her, not one bit. She was their navigator, but in his mind she was just a thief.
The events of the Arlong Park shed another light on her character. She wasn’t that cold-hearted, self-centered, gold-digging bitch he took her for. There was no monster under the layers. Just a girl with a sad past and scars that ran deeper than chain marks or discoloured skin from wounds that never got to heal properly.
One thing he got right, though. She was hiding something. That soft and kind heart she guarded heavily with an armour designed for the sole purpose of keeping other people away. An armour that got her through all the hatred and pain, the nights spent clawing her way toward the almost-impossible goal. Traitor. Thief. Witch. Minx. For the sake of her beloved people she endured it all, a lone fighter in the vipers’ nest.
She might’ve been hiding, but she gained his respect.
Two years have gone by in a blink of an eye, and there they were, reunited at last. He noticed some changes in her, not only on the surface. Nami looked more confident, more determined, a bit more transparent.
And then came the day she approached him with a proposition, that doomed proposition that turned his world upside down - though much, much later.
He was dozing off, as usual, when a shadow loomed over him. “Hey, Zoro”, she kicked his shin gently. “I know you’re awake, you fraud. Listen, could you teach me how to wield a sword?”
His eye shot open instantly and he looked at her as if she suddenly declared she’ll work for the Marines.
“…What?” He muttered, startled.
“Don’t look at me like that, I have a point. See, I’m more of a long-distance fighter, and I’d like to learn how to handle a close-ranged weapon so that I can defend myself without the risk of frying all of my allies. Or you lot having to save my ass every time.”
There it was again. Worrying about others first, never herself. She tried to cover that with cowardice before - pretending to be too scared to fight and running away or hiding, but after years of watching her he saw right through her act. She was doing it so that she wouldn’t be in their way, so that her friends wouldn’t get distracted. But once she got more proficient with the Clima-Tact, saving the day quite a few times already, it could no longer be the case.
He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut in:
“And I want to propose a barter deal. You’ll teach me the sword, and I’ll teach you about stars.”
Nami shot him a pitiful glance.
“Everyone knows your sense of direction is absolutely nonexistent. But we can overcome that.” Seeing that this got his attention, she put a hand on her hip and continued: “I can teach you how to tell your position based on the sun and shadows during the day. And stars at night. So, what say you, Swordsman?”
He leaned back on his elbows.
Thus, their lessons started. During the day they’d spent an hour or two practicing sword fighting and discussing shadows' angles, and at night Nami would tell him about the skies. They set up a meeting point on the upper deck and she’d always bring some booze to keep him motivated. She explained to him how to locate different constellations, talked about the origins of their names as well as mythology. He was surprised at how much she knew and found the lessons both informative and entertaining (though booze might’ve had something to do with that).
Time passed. They got better. They grew closer.
Sanji was losing it, constantly picking up a fight with him for “stealing his beloved Nami-san away”.
Nami and he would always laugh about it on the upper deck afterwards. She was doing a wonderfully accurate impression of Sanji, even lifting her eyebrow in a manner that resembled the characteristic Vinesmokes’ twist, and Zoro would always laugh his ass off. But he could tell she was fond of the cook, and it was all in good faith. There was an uneasy feeling in his chest when he thought about it, but he brushed it off.
He began to look forward to their sessions. She was a good student, diligent and determined, although too short-tempered. She knew she’ll never be an expert and would have a hard time going against someone proficient in the art, but what she lacked in skills, she made up for in creativity and agility. Hell, she even tricked him once or twice, and damn if he wasn’t impressed.
Best of all, she didn’t remind him of Kuina.
She was a good teacher, too, demanding yet effective. He already knew at least half of the northern and western skies, and the shadows trick helped him more than once.
He noticed how he was more eager to show Nami new moves or a correct stance if it required physical contact. Suddenly he became aware of how close their bodies were in certain positions. Of how her hair felt against his skin when they clashed, or the fleeing touches she left on his arm whenever she wanted to catch his attention.
Sanji irritated him more than ever.
Zoro’s senses were tingling; there was this strange feeling in his chest again, not entirely unpleasant. He was surprisingly peaceful about it. Not enough to lift the lid, though.
The night skies were bright and full of stars. He could name every one of them now, because they all bore the same name.
He started to look out for Nami more on a battlefield; she always had to be in the corner of his vision. He wanted to believe it was because he was monitoring her progress, or making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, but the truth was he started to care way more than he bargained for.
And he was right to do so, because after she jumped at the enemy and a particularly nasty counterblow sent her flying towards a rocky cliff, he was there to catch her in an instance.
He intercepted her mid-air, barking: “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you troublesome woman!” , while releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Set safe in his arms, with blood flowing from an ugly gush on her temple, she laughed at him. “They were going for your blind spot, silly. I had to do something.”
He looked at her incredulously - did she just try to protect him?
“Shit, I’m getting dizzy”, she breathed, leaning her head heavily on his shoulder. “Besides, I know you’ll always have my back, right?”
He shuddered (was it relief? Was it the way her breath fanned his neck?), and murmured with an unexpected softness: “Yeah. Just don’t overdo it.”
.
Winter turned to spring, and spring to summer. They laughed and drank and fought side by side, and his dreams were now full of tangerines and cats.
And then, the skies became overcast.
The feast was grand, befitting the rise of the new pirate king. Hundreds of people from all over the world gathered to celebrate the fulfilment of their captain’s lifelong goal.
The table was likely to give way due to the sheer amount of dishes and cups. Luffy sat at the top, silly wide grin never leaving his face, the surrounding buzz and bursts of laughter only fuelling his great mood.
Zoro was taking long and steady sips of Arabasta’s best ale. Right next to him, Nami nipped happily on a piece of sashimi. He tuned out the merry ruckus, content and peaceful at last, until his keen ears caught Jinbe’s deep chuckle:
“So, Luffy-kun, now that you’re the king, you’ll have to find yourself a proper queen, right?”
Luffy stopped chewing on what must’ve been his fiftieth piece of meat that evening and furrowed his brows. “You’re right, I guess”, he mumbled thoughtfully. It made Zoro smile under his breath - Luffy never was the type to think of such matters anyway - until their captain leaned forward, turned his face towards them and yelled: “Oi, Nami, wanna be a queen?”
Zoro choked on his beer. She dropped her food. For a second, their eyes met. Everything went silent.
And then, all hell broke loose.
The guests screamed and cheered. Chopper and Usopp downright fainted, Sanji was calling out all known profanities, Brook started to cry, and Franky was bellowing, patting their captain on the back. Only Robin was silent, her gaze never leaving stunned Jinbe’s face.
Luffy jumped on the table, grinning widely. He crouched in front of Nami, taking her hands in his. “Why, it makes perfect sense!” he cried out, excited. "You’re smart and know everything about the world, you’ll help me out with all this boring political stuff and whatnot. You care about people, and, like, we could do something about all those orphaned kids, just the way you’ve always wanted! And you’re not afraid to stand up to me! I know you’ll keep me grounded and support me like you always do!”
Nami was stupefied. All colour seemed to drain from her face, just to come back with almost blinding intensity of a blush. The crowd’s roaring was getting louder and louder, encouraging her to answer. Only after a few seconds she seemed to get her voice back, just to stutter: “Oh, Luffy, I-, I’m, what?”
Jinbe was first to recover from the initial shock, quickly cutting in:
“Umm, Luffy-kun, that’s all rather… sudden. Give Nami-chan some time to think it through. It wouldn’t be right to push her into making a decision right now”.
Luffy shrugged and patted her hands affectionately. He let them go, stating: “Yeah, sure, it’s no biggie! Let’s talk about it later!”, then proceeded to turn around shouting “MEEEAAAAT” , and jumped right in the middle of the elated mob.
Zoro’s mind couldn’t stop from reeling. Suddenly everything was noise, high-pitched and drilling, and he felt nausea creeping up his stomach. Trying to get the focus back, he looked at his hands and found them clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. Every muscle in his body hurt and only then he realised how tense he was, all the energy focused on one goal: not to burst out.
Slowly, he turned his head towards Nami. She was looking at her hands, now dropped loosely on her lap. Her face was obscured by the locks of her copper hair.
Her voice was small and he couldn’t figure out the emotion behind it: “I’ll go talk to him after the feast.”
Zoro just grabbed the jug of ale and downed it, wordlessly. And then another one. And another. And another. And then, finally, oh finally, he blacked out.
The dawn was getting near. He was standing on the upper deck, still half drunk, watching the ocean. Nearly empty bottle of ale was dangling between his fingers, and he swayed it to the rythm of the waves.
He half-dreaded, half-hoped for her to come here. So when the soft sounds of footsteps finally reached his ears, he simply braced himself.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
She leaned on the railing and placed her chin over the crossed arms, breathing in soundly. The smell of the ocean always calmed her down, he knew. Did that mean she was nervous? What did she come here to say?
The air between them was heavy with anticipation. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand not knowing what she knew. Not being ready. For he was always, always ready, and now look what happened. She had something of his and he desperately wanted it back.
“So, what’s up, Thief?” he finally croaked, even though it wasn’t any of the questions he really wanted to ask. (“Did you talk to him? Did you accept? Is this goodbye? How do I carry on?”)
She gave him a crooked smile and huffed, still not meeting his eyes. “You haven’t called me that in ages. Are we not friends anymore?”
“You tell me”, he replied, taking a swing from the bottle. The beverage tasted like piss. An adequate drink for cowards.
“You know that it doesn’t change anything”, she murmured.
Cold sweat covered his forehead. He struggled hard not to take her by the arms and shake the truth out, or just to take her by the arms, or to touch her, just for the sake of it, maybe for the last time.
There, finally, he said it, the cat was out of the bag, the Cat was right here - so close, and yet he couldn’t, shouldn’t…
There was silence, first, and his body tensed, bracing for the impact.
“…Yeah. We talked about it right after the feast. Took us over two hours, and to be honest I’ve never seen Luffy so level-headed about anything. He really seemed to have thought it through, and he got to me with that orphans thing, you know how I am with children…”
He tuned out after the first word. There it was again, the ringing and nausea, and boy, he must be really drunk, and he needed to get out of here, right now, or he’ll puke all over the deck.
“Yeah, cool, congrats on your” - he almost choked on the word - “wedding, engagement or whatever, I’m going to hit the hay now.”
He spun on his heel faster than his intoxicated body allowed him to, swayed lightly, made one step, stopped as if he wanted to turn around and say something, then waved it off. He was running away, a shameful thing to do, but everything hurt too much now for him to care.
He stopped dead in his tracks. There it was again, that damned conqueror's haki (who are you trying to fool Roronoa, it’s just her voice that makes you helpless like a sick puppy, waiting for their master’s orders).
A small, delicate hand grabbed his rough one, and she added a soft “…Please”.
And all of his defenses crumbled, and there he stood, naked, vulnerable, under a thousand stars.
He didn’t bother turning around. He couldn’t trust his face now.
“There won’t be any wedding," she said, and something bubbled in his chest, like a smallest ray of light in this endless, pitch black tunnel.
“…What.” His voice came out hoarse, and he prayed it was the alcohol making his throat suddenly this tight, this dry.
“We won’t be getting married. It’s settled.” Her voice was stiff, but calm.
“How would you become a queen if you… if he…” oh, he was so lost, he wanted a drink so badly now it physically hurt.
“Hey, it’s Luffy, remember? He does things his own way. He said we don’t have to be married, was astonished by the idea, by the way. I should feel offended”, she chuckled again. “But he really had no clue how these things work, and said he wanted me there as his nakama, not wife.”
The grip on his throat loosened, but still he didn’t turn around, waiting for her to go on.
“I wouldn’t say yes if that wasn’t the case, anyway. It wouldn’t be fair. Not to him, not to myself, and not to a certain person I hold dear to my heart. A person I feel about differently than I do about Luffy, or Sanji, or Robin, or anyone else in our crew.”
“Who.” The word has slipped his mouth before he could think better of it, and he almost bit his tongue.
The soft hand squeezed his, ever so slightly.
“Oh, I think you know him. Thick-headed, strong, likes to drink as much as I do, or maybe more. Knows his way around swords. Could be a great material for a queen’s knight, now that I think about it.”
Only then he dared to turn around, his heart fluttering madly in his chest, because he must be imagining it, it has to be some kind of alcohol delirium, or death has finally, mercifully claimed him. Because, she couldn’t possibly mean…
A pair of arms wrapped around his torso, and his breathing stopped.
“It’s you, you silly moss-head.” He winced slightly at the nickname, but she carried on. “It’s been you for a while, now. And I know…” she hesitated, and then corrected herself: “no, I hope, it’s not one-sided”. Her words came out a bit muffled, she was talking to his chest now. But then she lifted her head, eyes glistening yet determined. She looked at him and whispered: “So, what say you, Swordsman?”
Truthfully, there wasn’t anything he could say. There were thousands of thoughts running through his head at the moment, so he did the only thing he could: he ignored them all, lowered his head and placed his lips over hers.
It was as if heavens split up and a beam of light, warm and bright, engulfed him. Dozens of fireworks blew out in his body, or was it a wildfire - its flames licking his very insides. He grabbed her face, hungry, desperate, and pushed calloused fingers through her luscious hair. She smelled like salt and honey and adventures. Her mouth opened up, soft tongue brushed his, and he shivered. His earrings jingled with every move as he slowly discovered the map of her lips. And they tasted sweeter than any victory he ever claimed.
In the end, it all came down to this:
Roronoa Zoro did the one thing he swore never to do again.
There was a single star guiding him now, and for once in his life he knew exactly what direction to take.
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Live-action made me do it, your honor.
Please excuse any grammar mistakes, it actually is my first rodeo. 🥲
