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“Now what is a lovely lady like yourself doing sat all alone?”
“Sanji,” Nami said in lieu of greeting. The crews new cook hadn’t migrated from his post serving and was stood a few feet off from where she was perched at the edge of the party that Luffy had insisted they throw, his blazer slung over his shoulder and his hand in his pocket.
“Nami,” Sanji replied with a slight incline of his head. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
Nami shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m just taking a breather.” It had been a long time since she had been around the people of Coco Village and been welcome and, if she were being honest, it was all still a bit overwhelming. She had snuck away an hour or so ago, content to people watch and take it in from afar.
“Mind if I join you? I’ve been on my feet for an hour too long, I think.”
“Of course,” Nami said, gesturing for him to sit in the empty space beside her. “I assume the long hours were worth it.”
Sanji hummed in affirmation as he sat. “Everyone fed and watered, and one hundred percent satisfaction rate. Well, almost one hundred. It is my new mission in life to get the mosshead to admit that he likes my food.”
Nami laughed at that. “He won’t.” She had seen firsthand just how stubborn their swordsman was.
Sanji just grinned toothily. “I love a challenge.”
A comfortable silence settled over them and it took a moment for Sanji to break it. When he did his voice held a note of seriousness. “Can I show you something?”
The shift in tone made Nami wary and there was a beat of hesitation before she answered. “Sure.”
At her confirmation Sanji pulled his tie off and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Nami almost immediately regretted her answer but before she could protest Sanji’s stripping off, he very hurriedly spoke. “Yeah- I know this looks weird but just- trust me? Please.”
Nami raised an eyebrow sceptically but nodded for him to continue.
Sanji finished unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off so that it bared his left shoulder, and Nami couldn’t quite contain her gasp at what it revealed.
There, just below Sanji’s shoulder blade, was the number three, standing out boldly against his pale skin.
Nami knew what an old tattoo looked like, knew the way ink faded and settled into skin as the years passed, becoming more and more a part of you. Sanji had been young when he had gotten this, younger maybe than Nami herself had been and that thought turned her stomach.
She raised her hand to her arm, to the bandage there and the mark that lay beneath. One single mark that had defined her very existence for the past eight years. “Sanji…”
Sanji avoided her gaze, instead reaching into his pockets and lighting a cigarette. Nami didn’t miss the way his hands shook as he did. He took a steadying drag before speaking. “I understand what it feels like to be trapped, to feel like-,” He paused as if searching for the right words. “Like you aren’t your own person. Having everything you are boiled down to that-” He nodded towards Nami’s bandaged arm where her hand still rested.
Another pause, another steadying inhale. “I know how alone you felt.” He met her gaze now, his eyes raising to meet hers and in them Nami could see that Sanji meant every word. “You’re not alone anymore.”
And, for the first time in a long time, she believed it.
For years Nami had hid her tattoo whenever she left Arlong Park, partly because it would stir up trouble with those who recognised its meaning and partly because she couldn’t bear the sight of it, the stark black ink a constant reminder of everything she had lost, of the worst day of her life. And so she covered it, concealed her shame and her pain with long sleeves and a calculated smile, wearing a look in her eyes that warned people to not look too closely. She wondered now if Sanji did the same thing, wondered if his carefully starched and buttoned suits and perfectly polished shoes were his own disguise, layers to mask whatever ghosts were hanging around his head.
And now here he was, stripping himself bare – only somewhat literally – to her. She didn’t ask what the number meant or who put it there, knew it wasn’t her place, and she doubted Sanji would tell her anyway but the fact that he was showing her at all, that he trusted her enough to reveal even the barest hints of something so vulnerable was enough to fill her eyes with tears.
When Sanji spoke again his voice was quieter and he couldn’t hide the tremor that had snuck into it. “I won’t lie and tell you moving on, forgetting, whatever you want to call it is easy, because it’s not. It’s a bitch actually,” he said with the barest hint of laugh. “There are things that never really leave you, things that never stop waking you up in the middle of the night, but they do fade. It just takes time.” As he said this Sanji – seemingly unconsciously – raised his hand to his head, tangling his fingers into his hair, tugging slightly.
Nami hadn’t know the cook long, but she recognised a nervous tick when she saw one. She dropped her grip from her arm and reached forward to gently take Sanji’s hand into her own, pulling it away from his head and squeezing it gently. She could feel his palm, rough beneath her own, could feel the small cuts and burns left behind presumably from countless days spent in Baratie’s kitchen.
“You have the time now,” Sanji said as he squeezed her hand in response.
It still felt surreal to think but she did. She had all the time in the world. Nami could finally see her future and it was bright and clear. It consisted of a rubbery smile, the open ocean and a group of misfits who had snuck into her heart when she wasn’t looking. Her family.
“Thank you,” Nami said softly. Thank you for showing me this part of yourself, thank you for trusting me, thank you for following me here, thank you for fighting for me, for believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.
Nami looked from her and Sanji’s joined hands to where Usopp was sat waving his arms madly as he told the villagers another wild story, to where Luffy was hanging off Zoro’s arm, hassling the swordsman for whatever leftovers still remained on his plate and she smiled.
One thing was certain; neither of them would ever be alone again.