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Nami has never managed to understand how a crew like the Sun Pirates created a monster like Arlong.
Well, she does get it, kind of — pain makes people capable of terrible things, and she’s heard the story of Fisher Tiger's death, has seen the way fishmen are treated on Sabaody, she knows there’s so much pain there — but Arlong's staggering, senseless cruelty somehow still surprises her whenever she thinks about it.
It seems all the more senseless to her now that she's witnessed so many other ways to live, so many better people’s reactions to pain. Fisher Tiger's own refusal to pass down his hatred comes to mind. And Luffy, too; her captain has been hurt as much as anyone, and he can be selfish and shortsighted and even unkind, but he is nevertheless so unerringly good.
Though his better qualities sometimes pale in comparison to the sheer capacity of his stomach. For instance, now; he and Sabo are still at the dining table downstairs even though the feast has mostly died down and most of the Revolutionaries and pirates present have moved on to have a nightcap or eight. It looks like the idiot brothers are competing for who can eat the most takoyaki the quickest. Frankly it’s surprising that Sabo is able to keep up at all, given that Luffy’s mouth can literally expand to consume plates at a time, but he’s putting in a valiant effort. They’re both a little drunk, probably. They look happy.
“It’s good to see,” a voice says beside Nami’s ear, and for a second she thinks she’s spoken out loud before she realizes that someone has taken a seat beside her at the second-floor table. It’s Koala, the pretty Revolutionary officer who’s always near Sabo; who is looking at him now, in fact, with undisguised affection, or admiration, or both. Nami wonders if that’s how she looks at Luffy. She hopes not; she wants to be able to intimidate her idiot captain. But that’s probably how she’d looked at Luffy that day at Arlong Park, the day he saved her.
“It is,” she agrees, because Koala is looking right at her and she’s let the silence last a bit too long. “Always nice when the morons are happy. Means things are going well.”
Koala barks a laugh, a bit startled. “I don’t know if I would call Sabo a moron, exactly.”
If he calls Luffy his brother willingly, he must be a moron, but Nami refrains from saying that. Mostly because she recognizes what that means about her. “Fine, moron, singular. Still.” It’s only ever a bad sign when her captain is anything short of ecstatic. When he’s happy, annoying as he can be, she knows everything is alright.
“I like your tattoo, by the way,” Koala says. So that’s what she was looking at the whole time Nami was gaping like a fish at her sudden appearance. “What’s it meant to be?”
She thinks about the literal answer, that it’s a tangerine and a pinwheel, but that means either understating it or explaining the whole thing, and she’s not really in the mood for either. It’s been a fun night. “My hometown. It’s a coverup,” she adds, before the inevitable next question about the scars beneath and around it.
“Arlong, right?” Koala asks, tone level. Nami only has a second to feel — alarmed, embarrassed? Something she can’t entirely identify — before the Revolutionary continues, “Don’t worry, it’s not public information or anything. I’ve just heard quite a bit about what the Straw Hats got up to in the East Blue. It’s part of my job to make sure we have the best information, after all.” She laughs a bit at Nami’s visible relief, but then hesitates, swallowing heavily. “And, well. I’m sort of the same.”
She brings her arms over her back like she’s going to take off her blouse, but only pulls it up halfway, turning so that Nami can see her spine. Her spine, and the massive red sun inked into her skin. Oh is not a helpful thing to say at this moment, but it’s all that’s coming to mind. Nami elects to just shut up.
“So,” Koala says after a moment, dropping her shirt. Her expression is neutral; carefully neutral, maybe.
“You were a Sun Pirate.”
“More like their runt of a mascot,” she corrects, with a half-smile. “They were nice to me, mostly, even though I’m a human.”
Mostly. Nami thinks for a second. “Was Arlong always such a massive dick?”
“Oh fuck, yes, all the time.”
“Not all the time,” says a deep voice from nearby, and Nami turns to see Jinbe setting three mugs of booze on the table with a thump. “But quite often, I must admit. Would you mind if I joined you both?”
Nami waves a dismissive hand as Koala says, “Not at all. Are the drinks for us?”
“I figured you might want some.”
Given the subject matter; he doesn’t say it, but the implication is clear. From anyone else, it might feel invasive, but Jinbe is too good-natured for it to sting coming from him. “Aw, thanks, Jinbe,” Nami says, grabbing one of the mugs as Jinbe sits down. She catches his eye. “I’d be happy to pay for the round, since you were so kind as to bring them over.”
“No, no thank you,” says Jinbe at once, with a full body shudder. Nami bursts into laughter; Koala looks between the two of them, confused.
“What’s up with that?” she asks. “Is there some kind of problem with a free drink?”
“Yeah, is there a problem?” Nami echoes, unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face. She ends up in another fit of giggles and has to bite the edge of her mug to stop.
“Never,” says Jinbe to Koala, “never take her up on a loan. The interest rates are atrocious. You’ll be in debt for the rest of your life.”
“And then some!” Nami adds with a beatific smile.
Koala laughs at that, but it’s a little subdued. “I, uh, think I’ll pass then, thanks. I’ve had enough of debts I can’t repay for… well, for the rest of my life, and then some.” She takes a sip from her drink. “I’d be happy to pay for my own drink, since I can.”
Jinbe rests one big hand on Koala’s back for a moment, over where the sun tattoo is hidden by cloth. His webbed fingers splay out over where some of the rays must be. “Many of us owe everything to someone. It’s what makes the work of the Revolutionaries so important. Doing for others what Fisher Tiger did.”
Many, indeed; Nami owes her life to so many people, she can hardly stand it sometimes. But it’s not a debt, not really. It’s not a debt to have a life that needs saving.
“I really loved him, you know,” Koala continues, taking another swig. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m getting maudlin now, we’re meant to be celebrating, but I — I really loved him. And I think he’d be proud of what I’m doing with my life. I do think that. But he never managed to forgive humans, and he never could love me. And I wish — ”
She cuts herself off, her face in her hands, and Nami wants to say no, wants to believe that surely he loved her, he must have loved her. But she knows firsthand, and second- and third-hand, how hard forgiveness is to come by. On any crew but Luffy’s, she might never have been capable of forgiving Jinbe.
But he sounds so kind, does Fisher Tiger, wearing the emblem of the sun and demanding freedom; sounds so much like Luffy that she can’t just accept it either.
“My mom,” she starts, and then has to pause as her throat closes up. Damn it. Some days she thinks she’s made her peace, that enough time has passed for it not to surprise her anymore, and then it stabs through her again that Bellemere is gone, has been gone. “My mom, I always knew — I think I always knew she loved me and my sister. Deep down. But I was adopted, and she was an ex-Marine, and you know, Marines aren’t exactly…”
“Renowned for expressing their emotions?” Koala supplies gently.
Nami shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know, maybe she did, and I was just too much of a kid to see it, but. I never realized how much she loved us until she pulled her rifle on Arlong to try and keep us safe.” And by that point it was too late, but she doesn’t need to say that part. Koala understands much better than most people. “I know it isn’t really similar to your situation in the end, so maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“No, I understand,” Koala says. “It’s hard to recognize it in other people. It's probably even hard to recognize it in yourself. I always thought he loved me, anyway. He wouldn’t hold my hand, but he threw his gun into the ocean when I needed to see him do it.” She sighs, shrugs. “That was close enough for me.”
Nami tries not to picture it, the enormous fishman tossing his weapon off his ship while a tiny Koala cowers in front of him. She fails. The gun in her imagination looks a lot like Bellemere’s. “I’d like to think so,” she says.
“I have been very fortunate, I suspect,” Jinbe says, almost apologetic, “to have had — without a doubt — the love of two great captains.”
He’s been quiet for a while now, and there’s an unusual gravitas in his rumbling voice when he speaks. He is thinking, surely, of Whitebeard's last moments, and Fisher Tiger's before that. Maybe even of Ace. Thank you for loving me, Luffy's brother had said; they hadn't reported that in any of the papers.
“Three,” Nami corrects, because Luffy loves Jinbe, loves her, loves all of his crew; it was part of what had given her the strength to forgive Jinbe, the knowledge that her captain’s judgement of who deserved his trust was infallible. She makes a gesture down towards the dining table, where Luffy is shovelling huge cuts of sea king meat down his throat faster than they can be grilled. Sabo is nowhere to be seen now.
“Three,” Jinbe agrees, chuckling. “Our captain certainly has enough love to go around.”
“Like the sun,” says Koala, quiet but very certain; her eyes are fixed on Luffy, but she's looking very far away, and smiling at whatever it is she sees.
Nami smiles, too. Yeah. Just like the sun.