Chapter Text
The jungle air clung to Nami like an insult.
It wasn’t just the humidity — though that was certainly offensive enough — it was the noise. The constant layered hum of insects, the distant shrieks of birds that sounded like they were being murdered, the wet, breathing rustle of leaves overhead. It made relaxation impossible.
Which was exactly why she should have been on the beach.
She could practically see it if she closed her eyes. White sand. Gentle surf. Robin was probably stretched out at that exact moment beneath a parasol with a book and that serene little smile she wore when the world behaved as expected. A pitcher of something chilled and sweet Sanji had mixed up sweating onto a small table.
Instead, Nami was crouched in mud with twigs caught in her hair and a very real possibility of being ambushed by a rubber idiot.
Her grip tightened on the vine she’d pushed aside.
I cannot believe I let him talk me into this.
It had been after breakfast. Franky talking about dropping anchor so he could make some repairs after the three-day storm that had just battered them, Brook playing something soft and melancholic, Sanji already fussing over lunch preparations. The ship felt temporarily paused — suspended — and Luffy had hated that stillness.
“Let’s do something!” he’d declared, bouncing like an overcharged spring.
She should have ignored him. She had intended to, barely listening when he recruited Usopp and Chopper into whatever game it was he wanted to play. Until he’d grinned at her.
That stupid, bright, uncomplicated grin.
They needed a fourth player for this game they wanted to play, it seemed, to balance it out. At first, she refused – she had every intention of taking advantage of the relaxing atmosphere of the white-sand beach of the tiny island where they had dropped anchor thank you very much. But Luffy, damn him, knew exactly how to play her.
“Unless you’re afraid you’re going to lose, Nami.”
And she had known exactly what he was doing. He knew her competitive streak like he knew where the Sunny kept the emergency meat stores. He knew how to poke at it, prod it, set it alight.
But that hadn’t been the real reason she’d agreed. The real reason was far more irritating. Far more embarrassing. And far more dangerous.
She had a soft spot for him.
A quiet, stubborn little crush she kept locked in the same mental vault as her emergency treasure maps — something she could never afford to act on. Something that would almost certainly lead nowhere. Luffy’s heart was vast, yes, but it was not wired in ways that made space for… this.
Still.
Sometimes she wondered. And sometimes that wondering made her reckless. Which was how she’d ended up sweating through her shirt in a jungle playing Capture the Flag.
She exhaled slowly, forcing her focus back into place.
Usopp was already far behind her. She’d left him nearly an hour ago after planting their team’s flag in a defensible thicket.
“You just stay here,” she’d told him. “Guard it. Don’t move.”
“Don’t move?” he’d squeaked. “Nami, what if they come with— with jungle monsters?! Or traps?! Or—”
“They won’t,” she’d said, already slipping into the foliage. “And if they do, just… scream.”
She had heard at least three screams since then.
All distant.
All probably unrelated.
Now, creeping through the undergrowth, she let her thief instincts take over completely. Her annoyance sharpened into purpose. Every movement was calculated, silent, efficient.
This was her domain.
Not jungles, specifically — she preferred cities with better shopping — but infiltration. Strategy. Observation. The thrill of outmanoeuvring someone who thought they had the upper hand.
Luffy thought he did.
She would enjoy proving him wrong.
Her eyes caught a flash of red through the green.
She froze.
There, tied to a low branch in a small clearing, was their team’s target.
Luffy’s flag. Just hanging there.
Unattended.
Nami’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Oh, that is insulting,” she murmured.
Either he thought she was an idiot… or he was trying very hard to make her look like one. She crouched lower, scanning the clearing with meticulous care.
It was obviously a trap.
It had to be.
But what kind?
She shifted position, circling the perimeter slowly, silent as the cat burglar her reputation claimed her to be, eyes shifting amongst the trees.
Then she saw him.
Leaning against a tree a short distance – just far enough not to be noticed unless you looked- from the flag, arms loosely crossed behind his head, straw hat tipped low enough to shadow his face.
Luffy.
Still. Quiet. Looking for all the world like he had simply decided to nap mid-game… which wasn’t unlikely.
Her first reaction was fury.
Her second was suspicion.
Her third — annoyingly — was something softer.
Because even like this, dirt-streaked and half-hidden in jungle shadows, he radiated a kind of effortless presence. As if the world bent around his comfort. As if danger itself politely waited until he finished resting.
She stepped forward, heart ticking faster than she wanted to acknowledge.
This is stupid. This is obviously stupid.
Chopper was nowhere to be seen. Which meant he was either hiding very well… or had been sent to track down Usopp and their flag.
The thought made her smirk slightly.
But her attention stayed focused on Luffy.
Even from the distance of a few short meters, she could see the faint sheen of sweat along his collarbone, the subtle movement of his chest as he breathed, the way sunlight filtered through leaves to touch the edge of his scar
Nami crouched behind a broad fern, breath slow and deliberate. She studied him the way she studied locked vaults and guarded treasure — patiently, analytically, with a thief’s instinct for weakness.
He looked asleep.
That was the problem.
Luffy never looked like anything he actually was. He could be reckless and brilliant in the same breath. Careless and devastatingly perceptive. He could nap through cannon fire and then dodge a bullet in his sleep. She’d learned long ago not to take appearances at face value, especially with him.
But… she wasn’t just a thief. She was an excellent thief. She had slipped jewels from under nobles’ noses while they toasted victories completely unawares. Lifted coin purses from passing pirates’ and marines mid-conversation without blinking. Walked straight through gates simply by smiling like she belonged.
There were always ways around vigilance. Stealth when silence mattered. Misdirection when timing was tight. Charm when nothing else would do.
Compared to everything else, stealing one stupid flag from her rubber captain pretending-or-maybe-not to nap should have been trivial.
Should have been.
She shifted her weight, bare feet soundless against damp earth. The flag fluttered faintly, bright against the green. So close she could practically feel victory already.
But Luffy remained motionless.
Too motionless.
Her eyes narrowed.
Either you’re a better actor than I thought, she thought, or you’re a bigger idiot.
Neither option felt entirely safe.
Still.
Winning meant she could march back to the beach, throw herself into a chair beside Robin, and pretend this entire humiliating jungle excursion had never happened.
Determination hardened in her chest.
She began to creep forward.
Every step was calculated.
Every breath measured.
Every flicker of shadow catalogued and dismissed.
She circled slightly, approaching the flag from an angle that would give her the fastest escape route. Old habits guided her — always know your exits, always assume the worst.
Her pulse ticked faster the closer she got.
Five steps.
Four.
Three.
She could hear his breathing now. Slow. Even.
Two.
Her fingers extended toward the cloth.
One—
The world snapped tight around her wrist.
“Got you!”
His voice was low, amused, entirely awake.
Nami jerked in surprise, though she recovered quickly, glaring up at him as his hat tipped back just enough to reveal that infuriating grin.
“You were faking,” she said flatly.
“Maybe,” he replied, eyes bright with triumph.
His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm enough to make escape impossible without real effort. She twisted slightly anyway, testing the hold out of reflex more than hope.
Annoyance flared — sharp, self-directed.
“I can’t believe I fell for that,” she muttered.
“You always go for the treasure,” he teased. “Even if it’s obvious.”
“That’s because obvious treasure is usually a trap,” she shot back. “I just… underestimated how patient you could be.”
His grin widened. “Does this mean I win?”
“Absolutely not.”
The flag was still right there. Within reach. Taunting her.
Her mind spun through options rapidly.
Brute force wouldn’t work. Not without escalating the game into something she didn’t want. Outrunning him while he held her was impossible. Negotiation was pointless — Luffy negotiated like a hurricane.
Which left… Old tricks. Very old tricks.
Nami exhaled slowly, steadying the flicker of discomfort that always came with the thought.
She knew she was pretty. She had known it since she was old enough to notice how people’s eyes lingered a little too long, how doors opened faster, how suspicion softened into something far easier to manipulate. It had been a tool — sometimes a shield, sometimes a blade. A weapon she’d sharpened out of necessity, not pride.
Flirting. Smiling. Letting someone think they were winning something that had never really been on offer. She had used it more than once, and while it was easy, it wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed.
It left a sour aftertaste, even when the heist was perfect. Even when the escape was clean and the coin purse heavy in her hand. Guards and marks alike had blurred into a long list of uncomfortable memories — greasy compliments, clumsy advances, that moment of cold detachment when she reminded herself she was doing what she had to.
But it worked.
Ridiculously well.
It had a success rate she could practically set her watch by.
Still… Luffy was not like those men. Which was exactly why she doubted it would work. Which was also why it might.
It might confuse him just enough, she thought. Just long enough.
Her shoulders relaxed deliberately, tension draining from her posture like a practiced illusion. She tilted her head, letting her expression soften, her eyes half-lidding in a way she knew drew attention.
“Well,” she said lightly, “you really surprised me.”
Luffy blinked.
“Did I?”
“Yes,” she replied, stepping closer instead of pulling away. “You’re getting smarter.”
He grinned immediately. “I know.”
She almost laughed at that.
Her free hand lifted, brushing lightly against his arm. Casual. Measured. Intentional. The kind of touch that suggested something without ever committing to it.
“Maybe I underestimated you,” she continued, voice warm and teasing.
He tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity.
“You’re acting weird.”
“I’m being nice,” she corrected.
“You’re always nice.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
She huffed softly, but let her fingers linger a moment longer. Normally by now there would be a shift — a flicker of distraction, a telltale change in breathing, that subtle leaning-in of someone caught by the hook.
Instead, Luffy just looked… amused.
Like this was another kind of game he hadn’t fully figured out yet.
“You trying to trick me?” he asked suddenly.
Her smile widened. “Would I do that?”
“Yes.”
“…Fair.”
He laughed, bright and easy, still holding her wrist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
“If I said you could let me go and I might make it worth your while…”
He squinted.
“What’s ‘worth my while’?”
The innocence in the question nearly derailed her.
“You know,” she said, trying not to sound exasperated, deciding to keep it vague since she wasn’t really sure how to respond. “Something… nice.”
“Meat?”
“No!”
He considered that.
“Then I don’t get it.”
Of course he didn’t.
Nami bit back a sigh. This was exactly what she’d expected. Luffy didn’t respond to the same signals as everyone else. His priorities were simpler. His reactions more straightforward.
She shifted tactics, letting a playful smile tug at her lips.
“Maybe I should show you.”
“Oh,” he said, brightening. “Okay.”
She paused.
“…Okay?”
“Yeah,” he repeated, leaning forward expectantly.
For a second she wondered if she had just created a situation she couldn’t actually control. But pride wouldn’t let her back down now.
She stepped even closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the world outside their shared space seemed to blur into jungle noise and filtered sunlight. Luffy shifted his weight slightly, standing straighter, gaze unwavering as he focused entirely on the girl in front of him.
“See?” she murmured. “You’re already distracted.”
“I’m not distracted,” he said. “I’m paying attention.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
She opened her mouth to argue — and stopped when his expression changed.
It wasn’t confusion anymore.
Something had clicked.
His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with dawning comprehension. His grin shifted from carefree to something sharper, more knowing.
“…Oh,” he said slowly.
Nami’s stomach dropped.
“Oh?” she echoed.
“You’re flirting.”
The bluntness hit like a cannonball.
Her face heated instantly.
“I am not—”
“You are,” he insisted, sounding weirdly fascinated. “Like when you and Robin try to get Sanji to do stuff.”
“That is not the same—”
“Is this because you want the flag?”
She sputtered, frustration and embarrassment tangling into a mess she couldn’t untangle fast enough.
“Maybe,” she snapped, annoyed her first plan hadn’t worked even the slightest!
“Huh,” he said thoughtfully.
And then he ruined everything. Because instead of getting flustered or awkward or confused — like he absolutely should have — he leaned closer in return.
“Oh,” he repeated, as if testing the concept. “So, I can do it too?”
Her brain stalled.
“You can what—”
His hand slid from her wrist to her waist pulling her even closer in a movement that was somehow both clumsy and startlingly sure. Not possessive. Not forceful. Just… there. His features softened, eyes half-lidded despite the intensity of his gaze still focused entirely on her.
Mirroring her.
Grinning.
“I’m flirting,” he announced proudly.
Nami stared at him, panic flaring ever so slightly in her chest. This was not how this was supposed to go!
“You can’t just decide you’re flirting,” she said weakly.
“Why not?”
“Because— because you don’t even know what you’re doing!”
“Neither did you at first,” he pointed out.
“That is not comforting.”
His laugh was warm and bright, but his gaze stayed locked on hers with an intensity that made her pulse trip over itself.
“Now you’re the one who looks distracted, Nami,” he added, smirking.
“I am not distracted!”
“You are.”
“I am trying to win!”
“Me too.”
The flag fluttered just beside them, half forgotten.
Nami could feel the situation slipping through her fingers. Maybe she had never had control at all, and this realization alone made her heart hammer faster against her ribcage. Every instinct in her — the thief, the strategist, the woman who had always relied on knowing exactly how the game would play out — was screaming that she was being out manoeuvred.
Never, in all her carefully measured calculations, had she ever considered that Luffy would try to copy her.
Her emotions were haywire.
Frustration mixed with embarrassment, tension tangled with something warmer and more dangerous, a shiver down her spine she couldn’t – or didn’t want to - explain. Her mind scrambled to regain rationality. Her eyes flicked to the fluttering red flag. Inches from her fingers. Almost hers. Victory was still possible.
Then his hand moved.
Light, experimental, deliberate. His fingers flexed against her waist, pressing just enough to break her concentration. She swallowed sharply, feeling a jolt of something she tried to ignore. He was studying her, watching for her next move, and the intensity in his gaze made her chest tighten.
But it was enough that she realized something — unexpected as this was, she still had the upper hand.
Luffy might have instinctively copied her gestures, but he had no idea what he was doing. The way his head tilted, the way his grin held a slightly confused curiosity, the way he moved… all of it gave her leverage. She could play with him just as he had played with her earlier, goading her competitive streak until she’d bitten, until she’d fallen straight into this ridiculous game.
A sly smirk tugged at her lips. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” she teased, tilting her head. Her fingers loosened just enough at his neck to trace a deliberate line down his shoulder. “Flirting, I mean. You look ridiculous.”
For a fraction of a second, his expression faltered. Luffy blinked, ears faintly pink. “Huh… I… maybe?”
Her smirk widened. “Maybe? That’s all you’ve got? You think copying me makes you good at it?”
“I… I don’t really know…” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, a rare pause in his usual unstoppable grin. Then, like a lightbulb went off, the grin returned — bigger, brighter, almost mischievous. “Oh! Maybe you can teach me, Nami!” he declared, eyes sparkling with that infuriating mix of innocence and mischief.
Nami froze, a rush of warmth and embarrassment flooding her chest. Her lips parted, and a sharp little gasp escaped before she could stop it.
“W-what? No!” she said quickly, her voice a little higher than intended. She pulled back slightly, trying to regain composure, though her pulse betrayed her. “I’m not going to teach you!”
He pouted, a ridiculous, exaggerated pout that tugged at the corners of her heart despite herself. “Aww… come on, Nami…”
Why is he looking at me like that? she thought, cheeks warming. And why does my heart feel like it’s trying to escape my chest?
Her thoughts raced. She could barely handle just this — the proximity, the teasing, the heat of him against her. Letting him actually learn from her? From her? Her heart was hammering too hard just imagining it.
Outwardly, though, she forced herself to speak with authority. “I’m not teaching you because… because I refuse to help you win the game!”
“Hey!” he protested, tilting his head, still pouting slightly. “You started this, Nami! You’re the one who tried to distract me first! All I know about this stuff is what Sanji and Usopp have told me!”
“Sanji and Usopp?” Nami’s mind immediately recoiled at the thought. “I dread to think…”
He laughed, big and open, almost making her smile despite herself. “It wasn’t anything bad, I think! Just compliments, smiling… stuff like that.”
Her pulse stuttered. He actually remembered what they said?
Before she could process it, he leaned closer and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. The motion was subtle, but the contact sent an involuntary shiver through her. Her hands tightened briefly around his neck, trying to stay composed.
“You’re hair…” he said softly, grinning, “…it’s really shiny. And smells nice.”
Nami’s cheeks flamed hotter than she’d expected. “Luffy, what are you doing?” she asked with narrowed eyes, though the edge in her voice was futile.
“I’m just telling the truth.” Luffy answered innocently, tilting his head.
Her pulse quickened despite herself, and before she realized it, he had shifted slightly, pulling her even closer so that her chest pushed firmly against his. Not aggressively, but in a way that made her acutely aware of the warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the sheer presence of him.
She froze for a heartbeat, heart hammering against her ribs, cheeks burning. She tried to remind herself: It’s just a game. Focus. The flag. Win.
But the world had narrowed to the warmth at her front, the teasing brightness of his grin, and the soft pressure of his hands at her waist, holding her gently but undeniably close.
“You smell like tangerines,” he said quietly, as though sharing a secret. “I like it.”
Her hands faltered, loosening slightly as she fought to regain her wits. She was flustered. Embarrassed. And entirely aware that she had lost the careful control she had relied on for so long.
“L-Luffy…” she started, trying to sound stern, but the word came out breathless, uneven.
He didn’t move back. Instead, his grin softened, and his body pressed just a little more against hers, confirming the proximity, daring her to do something, anything. And Nami realized, in that instant, that the blush on her cheeks was hopeless. Completely hopeless.
Luffy tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief, and asked softly, teasing, “So… is it working?”
Her pulse jumped, hammering in her ears, stomach fluttering in ways she couldn’t quite ignore. But she gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders. No matter how loud her heart was, no matter how much warmth pooled in her chest, she wouldn’t be beaten at her own game.
If he wants to play me, then fine. I’ll show him how it’s done.
She leaned into him fully now, letting her body shift, weight pressing lightly against his. She caught the faintest raise of his brow at the movement — subtle, but telling — and a small thrill ran up her spine. Her hands came up to rest lightly on his chest, a touch so casual it could have been accidental, but deliberate in every careful inch.
Her fingers trailed over him, brushing over muscle, along the taut line of his abdomen, over the faint scar that ran across his chest. It was something she had imagined doing in quiet moments — playful, teasing touches she had never thought she’d actually get to do — and now, somehow, here she was, taking advantage of the opportunity.
“Not bad,” she admitted in a low murmur, letting her fingertips trace lightly over his arm, teasing but deliberate.
Then she took a risk — one that made her pulse hammer harder — and let the truth slip out, disguised as a playful lie. “I… I’ve thought about touching you like this before,” she said softly, her voice just above a whisper, like she was sharing a secret.
Luffy blinked, a faint flicker of surprise in his wide eyes, and his fingers flexed again on her waist, holding her just a little tighter.
“Really?” he asked, voice quiet but curious, almost vulnerable.
Nami tilted her head, letting a small, teasing smile tug at her lips. “Mhm.”
She let her hands continue their journey, gliding over his chest, lingering on the faint scar that cut a line across his skin. Her fingertips traced it carefully, almost reverently, feeling a small pang of sadness for what it represented. A thief’s instinct told her to move on, to be playful and strategic, but her touch softened, lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Then, with a subtle shift, she moved her hands higher, pressing lightly against him, tracing just enough to tease, just enough to elicit a reaction.
Glancing up, she caught sight of him in profile, and shock ran through her — he wasn’t as immune as she’d thought. His pupils were wide, the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple betraying a swallow, and there was the faintest dusting of red along his cheeks.
Then, shockingly, she caught the way his eyes flicked to her lips. Just for a heartbeat. Just enough.
A shiver ran through her. So, I can get a response out of him… she thought, and the knowledge was almost intoxicating. Even if it was only a game, even if she had to remind herself that, there was something thrilling about being the one who could elicit it.
Her hands lingered for a moment, brushing just enough to tease, to claim, to test the boundary. Then, slowly, deliberately, she let her arms settle loosely around his neck, as if in a casual hug — light, yet intimate.
Her body pressed just slightly, the faint brush of her chest against his a whisper of control, a whisper of challenge. And Luffy didn’t pull away. Not even an inch. Instead, his grin softened, his eyes locked on hers with something almost unreadable, daring her, inviting her — and Nami felt that little spark of power again.
Then, his voice dropped, softer than she’d ever heard it, quiet enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Nami… have you… thought of anything else?”
The words sent a jolt through her chest. Danger coiled inside her, sharp and immediate. The situation had already slipped beyond anything she’d anticipated — beyond control. Who was she fooling? Her instincts screamed to pull back, to protect herself, to not confess anything more than she already had. Her heart was hammering like a drum.
But the game… oh, the game still burned. And she was playing it.
“Maybe I have,” she said coyly, letting her voice drop just enough to suggest mischief, intrigue, a tease.
Luffy’s eyes lit with almost pleading intensity. “Tell me!”
She smiled lightly, letting her gaze wander briefly, teasing. “Hmm… maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”
He leaned just slightly, pressing closer, as if the weight of his curiosity could physically nudge her. “Come on! Just… one thing!”
Nami’s heart lurched. That note in his voice — it was new, fragile, earnest. She forced herself not to analyse it, to ignore the flutter of panic in her chest, and instead leaned fully into the game. “Nope,” she said playfully. “You’re persuading me all wrong.”
He persisted, tilting his head, grin still teasing but softer somehow, eyes locked on hers. Nami let him think he had a chance, prolonging the tension, the teasing. And then, finally, she let a tiny, deliberate shift of her body suggest a concession.
“All right,” she whispered, leaning in slowly, her voice low, teasing. “I have thought of… one other thing.”
Luffy’s eyes widened, pupils dark and keen, and he leaned just a fraction closer, completely intent.
She let her gaze flicker downward, to his lips, deliberately slow, deliberately obvious. His breath hitched just slightly, and she knew he hadn’t missed it.
Then she closed the gap, let their lips ghost over each other — barely there, fleeting, a brush that could almost have been imagined — and held him there long enough to feel the moment stretch. Luffy froze, like he didn’t want to react too fast, afraid he might scare her off.
Perfect, Nami thought.
Steeling herself, she leaned just a fraction further, applying the barest pressure in a barely-there kiss — a whisper, a tease, just enough to satisfy her plan.
Her hand flicked to the back of his shoulder, and with a smooth, practiced motion, she snatched the red flag that had been hanging there all along.
Luffy’s eyes went wide, frozen in shock, the grin wiped clean from his face. He didn’t pull away fast enough, didn’t move at all — and she used the moment.
Nami bolted, ripping herself from his grip, running hard through the jungle with the flag clutched tight. Her chest was heaving, heart hammering, adrenaline and racing feelings colliding. Not just from winning — but from what she’d just done, the line she had crossed, and the thrill that still pulsed through her.
And behind her, she could hear Luffy’s voice — shocked, breathless, a little off-kilter — calling after her, though she didn’t dare look back.
Nami ran, the flag clutched tightly in her hand, ignoring the way her heart was racing — not just from the sprint through the thick jungle, but from the heat of what had just passed. She knew full well it would be far too easy for Luffy to catch her if he tried, and yet… even as she heard his footsteps crunching after her, he didn’t. Somehow, she stayed just ahead, adrenaline sharpening her senses.
Branches whipped past her, roots snagged her sandals, but she didn’t hesitate. She burst out of the jungle and almost tripped over Zoro, who was sprawled against a fallen tree trunk, snoring with a sword lazily resting across his chest. She barely had a second to acknowledge him before she sprinted again, eyes fixed on the Thousand Sunny, her only goal now victory.
The moment she emerged, the rest of the crew noticed.
“I knew you could do it my amazing Nami-swan!” Sanji called out, leaning dramatically from the beach with a wide grin.
Brook’s laugh rang out, loud and theatrical. “Yohohoho! Incredible!”
Nami barely registered it. Her focus was the gangway. Her arms burned, her legs screamed, but she didn’t slow. Not yet.
She practically collapsed onto the ships deck utterly exhausted, legs trembling, lungs burning, and sweat clinging to her skin. Before she could even catch her breath, Franky had grabbed her arm and hoisted it high, grinning like a proud coach.
“Victory!” he bellowed, his booming voice carrying across the beach. “Nami, you are the winner!”
The crew on the sand erupted in cheers and applause, whistles and laughter ringing over the waves. Nami sagged slightly in Franky’s hold, chest heaving, heart pounding, still flushed from both the sprint and the chaos of the game.
It was only then that she noticed Luffy. He stood at the edge of the beach, watching her intently, the corners of his mouth tugged up in that familiar mischievous grin. Her chest tightened — he had been close during the chase, closer than she had wanted to admit… so why hadn’t he caught her?
Nami tore her gaze from the captains pretending to brush some hair out of her face, glad the flush on her cheeks could be blamed on the race to get back than its real cause.
Still, lounging on the sand below, the reaction did not go unnoticed by Robin.
The tension finally broke when Jinbe’s deep voice cut through the cheers. “Someone should probably find Chopper and Usopp and let them know the game is over.”