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notesfromthefielddesk · 3 years

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Episode 1 - Malinowski

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/6nIUBg5IthVY6F1caobf1N?si=04759ed73f474e39

We hear the fizz of the surf and some seagulls

John

Imagine yourself set down surrounded by all your gear alone on a tropical beach, close to a native village, while the dinghy which brought you sails away out of sight.

Now imagine, you look down that beach and see a man. He’s sat behind a desk wearing a tweed suit. Is that a microphone? You head over to investigate and realise he is narrating your actions.

Hi! this is notes from the field desk.

Theme

John

Why don’t you grab a seat… I guess on the sand. I’d offer you a chair but honestly getting this one here was hard enough. It’s a good one though, one of those ones with lumbar support. I insisted on it.

I said “if i’m going to sit behind a desk on a tropical beach for months you better believe i’m having lumbar support.” The guys on the fishing boat were not impressed. You should have seen their faces when they saw the desk.

Oh.. I seem to be sinking in the sand a little, would you mind, yeah if you just grab the other side. (Skuffling) Okay should be good now.

Transport and sinking aside it’s a pretty good office though right? I know you can see it but do you mind if I just describe for the benefit of the tape?

I am sat on Maliu Island just off the coast of Papua New Guinea. We’re at the North West Shoreline. It’s early morning the sun still rising. Looking out over the bay the lightly rippled sea shimmers in a thousand tints caught briefly on it’s continuously moving surface. In shallow spots amid turquoise vegetation, you see rich purple stones overgrown with weeds. Where the water is smooth unruffled by wind the sky and land are reflected in colours ranging from sapphire to the milky pink shadows of the mist enveloped coastline.

brief silence just washing of waves

John

I know what you’re thinking. Why the desk? I actually think this is a stroke of genius. I was talking to my supervisor, Susan, and she told me theres a debate in anthropology about the separation between field and desk.

You know anthropology? We’re like sociologists who like travel and hate maths.

Just so you know in academic circles that joke kills.

Anyway, apparently theres loads of articles about how anthropologists go to the field and they meet all people. Then they go back to their desks, in the universities and libraries and whatever. And then they write things that don’t relate to the people. Which makes going pointless in the first place. At least I think that’s what they were getting at, I sort of skimmed them, and they seemed to fit with this other idea of mine so… Sort of just ran with it.

My main idea, was that i’d recreate the research of the first anthropologist. Sort of a peer review, what did he get right, what did he get wrong. So i’m recreating “Argonauts of the Western Pacific” By Malinowski.

There were others before him, some old english blokes called Taylor and Frazer. Some people even say this Greek fella Herodetus was the first. But Malinowski was the first one to get the travel bit down. Before him most of these guys relied on reports they got from colonial officers or missionaries or even worse amateurs, usually wealthy people, running around writing nonsense.

Nowadays we’d call Taylor or Fraser armchair anthropologists. Taking the observations done by others and theorising about it. AKA philosophers, am I right?

Not a joke fan, noted.

Malinowski thought that the studies done before him were theoretically strong but the data unscientifically gathered. To successfully study the “other” you had to go and live with them see the world through their eyes. If you lived with them and participated in their community you could make objective observations about how their society worked. He said this becoming native was key and to achieve it you have to stay in the field for at least a year.

So the problem of early anthropology was people not leaving their desks to collect data, and the problem of modern anthropology is people leaving for the desk and forgetting the field. I thought two birds, one stone. I’ll bring the desk to the field.

(Disappointed) Oh. You were wondering about the tweed on a tropical island. Well in scientific study you control the variables right? If I want to see the Trobriand Islands like Malinowski did I need to recreate his experience. He was a posho, and in the photos he wore this weird colonial outfit which I couldn’t find but I figured this would work just as well.

Same deal with my travel route. I flew to Brisbane, not clear how he got there but we will say Brisbane was the starting point. I sailed up the coast from there to Cairns. From there I chartered a boat to Papua New Guinea. I’m not really a big boat guy and it was a lot longer than I expected so I was sick most of the way. But good news, so was Malinowski so we’ll count that as scientific accuracy.

We arrived pretty late at Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea. Malinowski doesn’t describe it but to be honest, I was a bit disappointed. It’s a massive city. I was sort of hoping to be far flung you know, cut off from civilisation the way Malinowski says you should be. I knew this was a risk though, in the intro to Argonauts Malinowski mentions that even back then in 1915 Native communities were melting away.

I tried to put my disappointment aside. After all, this wasn’t my final destination. And hey look at this, pretty cut off right? I took a car the following morning down the coast to Deba, I know that’s not how he would have done it but I couldn’t find a boat willing to take my desk. At Deba, I managed to bribe my way onto a fishing boat. Now here I am.

I know it’s not really the Trobriand Islands. But Malinowski hung around here and Moresby for a while and with the desk this is as far as I can get. I have now, in the words of Malinowski “spread my nets in the correct place” now it’s time to wait and see what falls into them.

Waves washing on the shore. Drag this out 10-15 seconds, see how it feels in the edit.

John

Seems like no-one coming. So Let’s go over some theory in the mean time. Don’t whine we’ll keep it light. You can paddle while I talk it’s mostly for my notes anyway.

Sound of someone paddling in sea

Malinowski was a functionalist, which means he thought all our social behaviour is an extension of our physical needs. He argued that thinking about it this way you could understand any behaviour, however strange, by understanding what need it filled.

Example, magic, weird right? Malinowski said no. It’s a response to emotional distress. When something bad happens that you can’t explain it’s comforting to fill that void of understanding, with Magic. Malinowski says that’s why magic persists in modern society. Like when you have a shit month and say it’s because mercury is in retrograde, it’s comforting even if you don’t fully believe it.

But this doesn’t just happen after the fact, participating in magic can make us feel like we’re in control of the future, which is strange and scary. That’s like saying “Next month Mercury is in retrograde get the incense ready.”

Remember that guy Frazer I talked about earlier? This is basically his theory of magic and religion. He said people realise they aren’t powerful enough to control nature so they ask higher powers to help. Malinowski loved Frazer, total fan boy, used to carry his book around, so it’s not surprising he borrows a lot of his ideas.

That other guy, Taylor, he would say we’ve advanced as a society beyond the need for magic. Through industrialisation we can control nature. Any magical belief left over in society was a “survival.” It used to serve a useful function in society but now it doesn’t, it’s just a silly ornament that we should throw out. Imagine a twitter atheist bro, “uhh horoscopes are stupid, haven’t you heard of this thing called science.”

Malinowski, not so much a fan of Taylor. He said no Taylor you dummy, society is functional. How can there be a social behaviour that doesn’t have a function. Doesn’t make sense. He said the function probably just changed to serve a different purpose.

Despite that little spat, they all basically agreed in an evolutionary perspective. That less advanced societies are what our society looked like in the past. By studying other people maybe it can help us understand the weird things we do now.

So i’m here to take an objective look at Malinowski’s objective look. A hundred years ago he was on the Trobriand Islands, so now they should look like the UK did in 1920. I suppose that big city at Port Moresby was a good sign they were right.

Oh shit, I’m actually late to teach my tutorial. Just gunna Skype in. In the mean time i’ll leave you with a recording of a passage from “Argonauts of the Western Pacific.”

Waves washing on shore maybe ten seconds

“The goal is, briefly, to grasp the native’s point of view, his relation to life, to realise his vision of his world. We have to study man, and we must study what concerns him most intimately, that is, the hold which life has on him. In each culture, the values are slightly different; people aspire after different aims, follow different impulses, yearn after a different form of happiness. In each culture, we find different institutions in which man pursues his life-interest, different customs by which he satisfies his aspirations, different codes of law and morality which reward his virtues or punish his defections. To study the institutions, customs, and codes without understanding the desires and feelings of these people is, in my opinion, to miss the greatest reward which we can hope to obtain from the study of man.

These generalities the reader will find illustrated in the following chapters. We shall see there the savage striving to satisfy certain aspirations, to attain his type of value, to follow his line of social ambition. We shall see him led on to perilous and difficult enterprises by a tradition of magical and heroical exploits, shall see him following the lure of his own romance. Perhaps as we read the account of these remote customs there may emerge a feeling of solidarity with the endeavours and ambitions of these natives. Perhaps man’s mentality will be revealed to us, and brought near, along some lines which we never have followed before. Perhaps through realising human nature in a shape very distant and foreign to us, we shall have some light shed on our own. In this, and in this case only, we shall be justified in feeling that it has been worth our while to understand these natives, their institutions and customs.”

Waves washing on shore for maybe ten seconds

John

Well…that was… an interesting tutorial. In the end we talked a lot about Malinowski’s diaries rather than argonauts. They were published in 1967, a while after he died. In part probably to protect his reputation, as it turns out. To be honest, I hadn’t read them in depth. But my students said they show he was kind of a racist. More like he was a racist, throughout. He curses the Trobriand Islanders, calls them lazy and stupid. Also it seems like all through his research he was bribing the islanders with tobacco to include him, and dance, or do magic. It all comes across… unscientific.

But I said to them, this is just his diary, his private thoughts. I’m sure, when he went to the field he was able to set his personal prejudice to the side and carry out good research.

They didn’t agree. First they said, objectivity wasn’t possible because people know their being watched and that changes things. They gave the example

From of a photo from Argonauts of the Western Pacific with the caption “A Ceremonial Act of the Kula." A shell necklace is being offered to a Trobriand chief. Behind the guy presenting the necklace is a row of six bowing boys, one of them sounding a conch. All the figures stand in profile, their attention apparently concentrated on the rite of exchange. But if you look again, you see one of the bowing Trobrianders is looking at the camera.

To be honest when you look at the other pictures, Malinowski does look awkwardly out of place. Hardly, a member of the community. And Malinowski definitely skewed the results with the bribes.

Sorry, the tide is coming in and the waves are now washing onto my brogues. Would you mind helping me shift the desk a bit further up the beach.

General awkward moving the desk sounds.

Sorry where was I? Right, secondly, they said Malinowski was wrong. Those colonial officers and missionaries, it wasn’t that they couldn’t be objective because they weren’t scientists. But because nobody is objective, we’ve all got baggage, things that have happened to us that make us think a certain way.

He couldn’t just leave his racism in the diary because it effected the way he thought about everything. They said when you claim something is objectively true you’re really making a claim about authority.

Remember, before, how we were talking about the evolutionary stuff. They said that is based on the assumption that European civilisation was the peak of human society and everything else is on the same track to becoming that.

They said that’s what colonialism was, British people going around the world claiming they were the height of civilisation so they should be in charge. By being in charge they’d make them better. They called that “The White Mans Burden.” Not the students, the colonial officers. What Malinowkski’s diary proved was that he was just as prejudiced, just as guilty of this way of thinking. He saw them as savages and backwards, less evolved. and that wasn’t just a private opinion, that formed the basis of his theories.

I said, wasn’t that just cancel culture?

They groaned at that. One of them said really cancelling someone was just challenging the authority of their statements and actions. When Malinowski was “cancelled” it challenged the authority of colonial racism. Even if he only thought in private that the Trobriand Islanders were lesser it still effected how he treated them and described them. The same way it effected British colonial officers descriptions and treatment those they ruled.

That’s why anthropology is suspicious of objectivity, because objectivity is a claim to authority and authority leads to misrepresentation and mistreatment. In other words, arriving as an anthropologist and claiming to be able to see someone else society objectively is like saying “I’m big your small, I’m smart, you’re dumb and there is nothing you can do about it.”

They stumped me a bit at the end there, couldn’t really follow, but I did feel hurt. I said “if that’s all true and I’m replicating his work then how am I different from Malinowski. Am I a racist?” It got a bit awkward after that.

Still, I think there is some merit in what I’m doing. I’m not a racist. So I can asses Malinowski’s work, see the flaws. Societies still advance so, i’ll just see how things have changed, have they become like us? I told them I would carry on and prove I could be objective.

Anyway a lot to think about. [Phone ring]

John

Apparently, the students have complained. And Susan has reminded me that my contract requires I teach the tutorials in person. That this fieldwork was not cleared and that I have not done an ethics form. Further, she reminded me that the department does not subscribe to a teleological perspective. I asked what that meant and she said to do some fucking reading for once.

Still, Malinowski teaches us a lot. Fieldwork is still really important in anthropology, you’ve got to go and talk to people and understand their perspectives. That’s his lasting legacy more than the theoretical work. Plus, I suppose his diary teaches us that we should keep an eye on our assumptions. And remember that no matter what we do, like bring a desk to the field, we always sneak into our work. So maybe we should just be upfront about that.

So - would you mind helping to carry this desk to that village? I need to get back or i’ll get fired.

more desk moving noises

I just realised I never asked what you were doing here.

Really!? that’s disgrace-

Theme

This was notes from the field desk written by me John McGrail.

This episode references

Clifford, John (1983) On Ethnographic Authority in Representations, No. 2 (Spring, 1983)

Dahl, Roald (1988) Matilda published by Jonathan Cape

Malinowski, Bronislaw (1922) Argonauts of the Western Pacific Routledge

Malinowski, Bronislaw (1948) Magic, Science and Religion Waveland Press

Malinowski, Bronislaw (1967) with introduction by Firth, Raymond (1989) A Diary in the Strict Sense of the Term Stanford University Press

Tylor, Edward Burnett (1871) Primitive Culture published by the Cambridge University Press

Young, Michael W. (2004) Malinowski: Odyssey of an Anthropologist 1884-1920 Yale University Press

The sounds were all taken from Freesound. If you can donate to them you totally should, I would not have been able to make this podcast without it.

The sounds were;

Water Lap by snog https://freesound.org/people/snog/sounds/67031/

Sand slidding out of shovel slowly by XfiXy8 https://freesound.org/people/XfiXy8/sounds/467301/

Tropical Ocean Waves » Mau U Mae Beach Waves by tombenedict https://freesound.org/people/tombenedict/sounds/397594/?page=2#comment

Tropical Island by rich wise https://freesound.org/people/richwise/sounds/451743/

The theme music was dark side of my students, posted by Mia Stodzwiekow created by Tadeusz Maszewski https://freesound.org/people/miastodzwiekow/sounds/341770/

#podcast #anthropology #arts and entertainment #culture #society #transcript #audiodrama

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anubislover · 4 years

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Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 14: It’s All Fun and Games

The Polar Tang’s library was easily Nami’s favorite place on the submarine. For one, it was the coolest room on the whole ship as Law had put a considerable amount of resources into developing state-of-the-art climate control equipment to keep the books in good condition. Secondly, the walls were lined with shelves practically bursting with tomes on navigation, oceanography, geography, zoology, weather, history, and, of course, every type of medicine imaginable. Thirdly, it was comfortable; there were plush chairs and couches, a peaceful atmosphere, perfect lighting for reading, and a large table where she and Bepo could work on maps and other projects.

In fact, that’s exactly where the pair of navigators had been holed up over the past few days. Stacks of books on horticulture and gardening surrounded them as they furiously scribbled on sheets of graph paper, meticulously planning out the new greenhouse. With the money they’d accrued from the gala heist, Clione had managed to purchase the equipment needed for solar lights and the sprinkler system. Now it was up to Nami and Bepo to decide which plants should go where so the engineers could start the installation process. It was trickier than it sounded; due to the combination of medicinal herbs and produce, many with different watering and sunlight requirements, the room needed to be carefully mapped out for peak efficiency.

“What do you think of this layout, Nami?” Bepo asked, handing her a rough sketch. “Rough” being the key word—though there was a marked improvement over the past few months, even under Nami’s careful tutelage, his drawing skills still left much to be desired.

Despite the giant sweatdrop falling down the back of her head, Nami forced a happy grin. “It’s a good start! What corner are we putting the aloe plants in?”

“Well, they need a lot of sunlight, so I thought the west corner?”

She studied her notes carefully, a deep wrinkle forming across her brow. “Hmm, but that’s the area that also gets watered the most. According to the books, aloe needs to be watered deeply, but infrequently; otherwise it’ll rot.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, round ears drooping as he hung his head, a gloomy cloud forming around him.

“It’s ok! We can make a dry corner—a section that has a lot of sunlight, but no sprinkler system. We’ll manually water those on a strict schedule.”

He perked up at the suggestion. “Maybe we can have a chart or something next to those with specific instructions to avoid confusion? And some plastic curtains to block out the spray from the sprinklers so it stays dry?”

“Great idea!” she replied, smile much more genuine this time. With how sensitive Bepo was, she’d forced herself to adopt a more calm, motherly demeanor when working with him. He was a lot like Chopper; sweet and a little naïve but extremely intelligent in his specialized field. She wondered if perhaps, like the blue-nosed reindeer, he’d been bullied when he was young. Had people thought he was a monster, too?

“Thanks, Nami,” Bepo said, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, the island we’re heading to has the aloe variety that Law uses—I know we’re not ready for a full greenhouse, but maybe we could pick up some fresh plants and set up one of the sunlamps in here as a tester since it’s the driest room.”

At the mention of the captain, Nami had to bite back a frustrated sigh. Law had been pretty much intolerable for the past week. She’d thought she’d seen the worst of his insomniac tendencies when he’d been working on the fertilizer, but this was so much worse. He stayed in his room practically all day, and on the rare occasion he emerged he’d been broody and snappish. Most of the crew had chalked it up to stress and lack of sleep again, but Nami could tell they were trying to hide their concern. This wasn’t a hyper fixation like the fertilizer had been—this was an obsession over something personal.

However, she dared not press the matter—Law wasn’t like Luffy or Zoro, whom she could knock over the head and nag into submission. And if his mood did have anything to do with the Amber Lead vase, she was even warier. She still distinctly remembered his rage after the gala—he’d implied that the World Government had covered up the truth that the infamous disease wasn’t contagious. Maybe he wanted the vase to prove it? To spit in the eye of those who had callously doomed an entire city?

Seeing the frown on her face, Bepo sulked. “I’m worried about him too.”

“I’m not worried about him,” she huffed, crossing her arms stubbornly.

The Mink ignored her denial. “I wish he’d get more sleep. I know he’s working on a plan, but he still needs his rest.”

“Why don’t you just drug him or something?” she asked a bit petulantly. Really, she was mostly upset that Law was needlessly troubling his crew. Didn’t he realize how much they cared about him? “There’s plenty of sedatives aboard the ship.”

“Oh no!” Bepo cried, black eyes widening in horror. “Law’d be furious if we did that! There’s too much risk involved. What if we were attacked? He’d be too out of it to fight or take care of the wounded.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she acquiesced, slumping forward and resting her chin on her crossed forearms. Chopper would probably have the same objections. Except a sleep-deprived, angry doctor wasn’t much better than a doped-up one. “Still, he needs a nap or something. He’s been acting like a toddler.”

“Careful who you call a toddler, Nami-ya,” Law’s deep voice rasped in her ear, startling a shriek from her throat as she jerked upright, nearly smacking his chin with the back of her head. “And keep your voice down—you’re in a library.”

“Oh, go to hell, Law!” she snapped, twisting around in her chair to glare up at him. “What are you skulking around for, anyway?” Not that she should really complain—he was actually out of his room, after all.

Striding past her, he perused the history section before selecting a large, faded tome. “It’s my ship—I’ll go where I please.”

“Well, how about you please go to bed?” she argued. Screw not pressing the issue—maybe she couldn’t knock him over the head like her own crew, but she could sure as hell nag, and clearly someone had to. And he wouldn’t attack her with Bepo around, right? “You don’t want to screw up someone’s medication like you did last time you were overtired, right?”

The glare he threw over his shoulder was so full of malice Nami shrank down in her chair. Though a valid point, she knew her comment had hit below the belt.

“Watch your tongue, Nami-ya, or else I’ll remove it,” he sneered. Even with the shadow his hat cast over the top half of his face, Nami could clearly see his eyes were bloodshot and the bags underneath were even darker than usual. “Getting that vase is going to take even more planning than the gala, and I’ve got less information to go on and maybe a third of the time. Even if I could calm my mind enough to sleep, I simply don’t have the time to spare.”

“Look, I know you’re the devious schemer around here, but you’re also the doctor. You of all people should know the importance of getting proper rest. If you’re that worried about your plan, I can help you; burglary is literally the reason you brought me on,” she argued, arms spread wide.

A deep frown marred his face as he shook his head. “No. After what you went through on Grimm, I want you to take it easy until we get to Atifakuto—that’s when I’ll need your help. You’re lucky I’m even letting you work on the greenhouse plans.” He glanced down at the piles of papers strewn across the table. “By the way, I want to look those over later.”

She smacked her forehead in exasperation. “Seriously? Your own plans aren’t enough to keep you occupied? You have way too much on your plate as it is. For God’s sake, just take a break and get some fucking sleep!”

Long fingers gripped the book in his hands so tightly Nami could hear the leather binding groan. “Don’t you dare give me orders on my own fucking ship, Nami-ya.”

“Captain,” Bepo interrupted quietly, voice nearly a whimper, “do you promise to at least try to get some sleep when we get to the island tomorrow? Even just a short nap? It’ll be sunny and warm and safe—maybe your mind will settle down there.”

There was a moment of tense silence as a pair of round black eyes shimmered pleadingly, desperately hoping to put an end to the argument.

“Shit. Quit being so cute,” Law muttered under his breath. Narrow shoulders heaved in a sigh. Not even the Surgeon of Death could be mad at the sweet Mink when he sounded so genuinely concerned. “I promise to try. At the very least, I’ll spend some time outside; I’m sure all this time underwater hasn’t exactly helped my vitamin D deficiency. So long as no one gets any ideas about giving me another lovely sunburn,” he quipped, scowling at the mikan-hair woman meaningfully.

Nami held up her hands in surrender. Even though he totally deserved another prank due to his prickly behavior, it was way more important that he had enough peace of mind to get in even a small amount of sleep.

Damn, she thought to herself as Law stalked out of the library. Bepo’s right; I really am worried about that idiot.

XXX

Cousteau Island was small but beautiful. By Nami’s estimation, it had been an undersea volcano that had risen up less than a hundred years ago. Shaped like a fat crescent moon, the majority of the land was covered in lush jungle and lined with smooth, sandy beaches. The surrounding ocean was nearly teal, full of tropical fish and rainbow-colored coral. Fruits like bananas, coconuts, and pineapples grew in abundance, but there didn’t appear to be much wildlife—mostly birds and sea turtles who had decided the uninhabited island was the perfect spot to lay their eggs due to a lack of predators.

“How did you guys find this place?” Nami asked Bepo, not bothering to keep the awe from her voice as they surfaced in the cove. “I’ve never heard of Cousteau Island, and it wasn’t the atlas.”

More than happy to tell the tale of their lucky discovery, her fellow navigator explained, “It’s a summer island we found when a storm blew us off course. It’s so tiny its magnetic field is hidden by Grimm’s, so it doesn’t show up on a log pose—we had to make an eternal pose to get back. It’s also surrounded by a massive reef that’ll destroy most other ships if they get close, but we found the underwater tunnel to get through. It’s completely uninhabited, so we claimed it and use it as a hideout.”

Glancing around, Nami could see the skeletal remains of what looked like a pirate ship wedged onto the rocks, along with debris scattered along the beach. They appeared to be several months old, however, so she doubted they’d be running into any castaways. “How’d it get its name?”

“Cousteau found the safe path to the island, so we let him name it,” Law interjected bluntly, though not without a hint on begrudging affection for the diver/oceanographer. “Otherwise, it would have been ‘Trafalgar Cove’.”

Nami nodded in understanding, too pleased at the possibility of mapping out a brand-new island and taking a vacation to mock him for the blatant arrogance. It seemed Law hadn’t been making empty promises when he told her the island would be much more relaxing. Now all he had to do was keep his promise about getting some sleep.

Upon landing, the crew spent the better part of the morning setting up chairs, umbrellas, a volleyball net, blankets, tables, and everything else they could think of for a fantastic day on the beach. Surprisingly, getting the bonfire and grill started was the easiest part; debris from the shipwrecked pirate ship, which seemed to mostly consist of the shattered remains of wooden crates and barrels, littered the shore, so there was no need to cut down trees. By noon, the last of the preparations were finished, and after a quick lunch, the crew split off into their own groups.

Cousteau and Crozier led Clione, Darter, Sgt. Pepper, Ajisahi, Tsunomedori, and Shiroruka to explore the jungle, promising to be back by sunset with fresh fruit, water, and the aloe Law wanted. Skua and Malamute, two of Ikkaku’s fellow engineers, elected to stay on the ship to perform some maintenance. The rest, led by Penguin and Shachi, chose to change into bathing suits so they could all enjoy some much-needed relaxation on the beach.

“Incoming!” Nami shouted, spiking the blue and yellow beach ball hard over the net, scoring the winning point for her team.

“Nice shot!” Ikkaku cheered, high-fiving her partner.

“And that’s the match!” Ermine sniggered from their spot by the grill as they cleaned the assortment fish Jude, Uni, and Seiuchi had caught for dinner, careful to keep their long brown braids free of fish guts. The cook had been thoroughly amused throughout the game—they’d never pass up the chance to watch the first and second mate get trounced by a pair of pretty ladies in swimwear. “Did you guys even score a single point?”

“Ah, shuddup,” Shachi groused as he fell back onto a nearby towel, though his displeasure at losing didn’t stop him from ogling Nami and Ikkaku’s sun-kissed bodies. Nami had elected to don a cherry red, lace-up one-piece that tantalizingly showed off her legs and cleavage. Ikkaku’s was comparatively more modest, being a sporty, black, high-neck two-piece, though the mesh across her breasts didn’t hide much.

The swimwear had been a tactical choice—the moment Penguin and Shachi had proposed a game of volleyball, the girls knew there was no better way to distract them. And with such a devious plan, they of course added on a friendly wager—losers do the winners’ cleaning duties for the next month.

“Man, they destroyed you,” Jude mocked from his chair, black bowl cut shining in the late afternoon sun.

“Like you would have done any better,” Penguin argued as he took a swig from his water bottle.

“Doesn’t matter—I’m not the one with double cleaning duty.”

“You’re all getting extra chores if you don’t quit your damn whining and let me work in peace,” a dark, irritable voice called.

Law was seated a dozen feet away from the makeshift volleyball court on a wide beach blanket, Bepo snoozing softly behind him. As promised, he’d managed to doze for a short while in the sun, but it hadn’t done much for his mood. In fact, it seemed that with that small bit of rest, he’d become even more determined to work on his plan instead of relax like his body clearly needed. So, despite the protests of his crew, he’d attempted to return to his work inside the ship.

However, the maintenance had proven noisy enough to force him back outside, stacks of books and papers in hand, and he’d sullenly plopped onto the blanket beside his navigator, resolute to get some work done despite the universe’s clear attempts to stop him.

In Nami’s opinion, he looked absurd in his black and yellow swim trunks surrounded by notebooks full of messy scribblings and huge history books. He was like a nerdy brat who’d been forced on a family vacation but opted to petulantly do homework on the beach instead of have fun.

Sure, he was a hot nerdy brat, but she could also see the signs that his obsessive planning was taking its toll on his body. The definition of his muscles was starting to fade, and he looked thinner. Tan skin appeared dull even in the bright sun, and there wasn’t enough concealer in the world to cover up his eyebags now.

“Ok, this is ridiculous,” Nami grumbled with a scowl. She squeezed the volleyball between her hands, briefly imagining it was Law’s thick skull. “Even post-catnap he’s being a grumpy bastard.”

Ducking beneath the net to stand beside her, Penguin nodded in agreement. “Normally I’d say leave him alone and let him deal with it at his own pace, but this is different.”

“He told you what we’re going after?” she asked lowly, keeping her voice down to avoid disturbing the man in question or risk him eavesdropping.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m worried.” Penguin gave her a sidelong glance. “Amber Lead’s a touchy subject with him. Think this is bad? It was way worse when we sailed the North Blue.”

“What’s his deal with it?”

“It’s not my place to say. What’s important is that we get his mind off of it. All this brooding’s just going to make his insomnia worse, and it’s completely killing the party mood.”

“Any suggestions?”

“You could give him a lap dance.”

Before anyone could blink, Penguin was on the ground, a grapefruit-sized lump throbbing on his head. “Ow! I was kidding,” he moaned.

Nami cracked her knuckles. “Got any legit suggestions?” she growled, a murderous look in her eyes.

“Leave it to me,” Shachi chimed in, getting up from his towel. His gait was determined as he marched over to his captain. Standing directly in the man’s sunlight, he waited until Law glared up at him in annoyance.

“Move.”

“Nope.”

“That’s an order.”

“Nothin’ doin’.”

“If you don’t move in the next five seconds, they’ll be using your head as the volleyball.”

“Go ahead—the rest of me will still be right here, blocking your light.”

Rubbing a hand over his frustrated face, Law half-growled, half-sighed, “What the fuck do you want?”

Shachi crossed his arms over his chest. “This is supposed to be a vacation, but you’re bringing down the whole mood. So, unless you want a mutiny on your hands, you’re gonna play the King Game with us.”

Gold eyes narrowed ominously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Law, you’ve been a brooding pain in the ass for eight days. I get you’re dealing with a lot of shit, but if you expect us to just sit by and let you kill yourself with planning and sulking, well, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I refuse to leave things to chance,” Law snapped, gesturing towards the large pile of notes and books before him. “The plan hinges on me memorizing all of this. I don’t have time for stupid games.”

“Dude, too much stress from studying can cause brain inflammation and result in memory loss or depression. So unless you take a break, you’re more likely to forget this stuff and your plan will be ruined.”

“Please, Captain?” Bepo chimed in from behind him, black eyes once more shimmering with beseeching tears. He’d awoken at the mention of the King Game; it was one of his favorites, and there was no way he was going to let Law miss out.

Another sigh, this one more resigned as the stubborn captain massaged his temples. The combination of scientific facts and Bepo’s puppy-dog eyes was especially effective in his weakened state. “How long do I have to play?”

Shachi grinned triumphantly. “No less than thirty minutes. Come on; it’s a relaxing, easy game. Heck, you might not even end up having to do anything.”

“If that’s the case, it’ll be an even bigger waste of time.”

“Law, when have you ever considered watching us act like idiots a waste of time?”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Do you promise to leave me in peace afterward?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he said with a mock salute. “Now, is your grumpy ass going to join us, or are we coming to you?”

“Fine, fine,” he growled, carefully marking his place in his books and laying Kikoku across the papers so they wouldn’t blow away in the wind. Bepo hefted him to his feet despite his grumbled protests, ushering him towards the group that had formed. Jean Bart, Uni, Jude, Ermine, and Seiuchi had come to join them, plopping down onto the sandy beach in hopes of cheering up their moody captain.

“Ok,” Shachi began, clapping his hands together eagerly, “does everyone know how to play this?”

“We all draw popsicle sticks. Each stick has a number except for one that has a crown. Whoever draws the crown is the ‘King’ and can order one or two numbers to do anything they want,” Jean Bart answered bluntly.

“Within reason,” Ikkaku interjected, pointing her finger at Jude and Seiuchi. “Nothing R-rated.”

“Surprised you guys are so tame,” Nami giggled, glancing around the circle.

“Things got a little out of hand once,” Uni said vaguely while everyone else mumbled in uncomfortable agreement. “A lot of rum was involved.”

“Say no more.” Nami could easily imagine, with a crew of mostly men, just how insane the game could get under the influence of alcohol.

The warm dusting of pink that broke out across Penguin’s cheeks confirmed her suspicions. “Anything goes so long as it’s PG-13 and doesn’t cause grievous bodily harm.”

“Whatever,” Law grumbled from his spot beside Bepo, still determined to remain sour and unpleasant throughout his prescribed dose of forced fun.

Rolling his eyes at their captain’s less-than-enthused reaction, Shachi held out his fist clutching the popsicle sticks. “The sooner you start playing, the sooner we’ll let you get back to your brooding, Boss.”

The answering glare was ignored by the crew in favor of drawing a number, with Ikkaku cheering loudly, “Oh yeah! Guess who’s the King!”

“But girls can’t be kings!” Shachi teased, quickly ducking the fist he knew would be coming.

“Buddy, you’re lucky I’m not royalty—otherwise I’d have you drawn and quartered for that crap,” she snapped, but there was no real venom in her tone. If Nami had to guess, this was a joking argument they had every time. “But as your temporary ruler, I decree that numbers eight and five should do a handstand contest. First to fall loses.”

“I’m eight,” Uni stated, getting to his feet.

“And I’m five,” said Jean Bart.

“This’ll be over quick,” Ermine whispered to Nami. “If he hadn’t gone into piracy, Uni would have been a great circus acrobat. Or maybe a ninja.”

Nami stared at the mysterious Heart Pirate, impressed. Perhaps she could ask him for a few tips—balance was vital when you were a burglar.

To everyone’s surprise, though, despite Jean Bart’s massive size, he kept his balance remarkably well even on the soft sand, managing to stay up for nearly a full two minutes until finally yielding.

“Saint Charlos would regularly make me perform for him,” he explained, tone nonchalant but the tension in his shoulders betraying his discomfort. “I was basically his circus monkey.”

“Crap, I’m sorry, Jean,” Ikkaku replied, looking guilty. Even though it had been completely unintentional, bringing up the former slave’s past was generally regarded as an unspoken taboo.

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, though he wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “It’s fine. At least this time I could stop when I wanted and didn’t get beaten after.”

Everyone in the circle winced. The Celestial Dragons really were a piece of work.

“Alright, next round,” Shachi changed the topic as he collected and shuffled the sticks, trying to keep the party mood from turning sour and to give Jean Bart the opportunity to step back out of the spotlight.

This time, Bepo had the luck of being King. “Uh, I order number three to scratch behind the King’s ears for a full minute,” he said shyly, tapping his claws together bashfully. “I mean, only if they want to.”

“Do I?” Nami called cheerfully, climbing to her feet and scurrying over to the cute bear. Immediately she buried her fingers in his thick fur, manicured nails scraping across Bepo’s sensitive skin in quick little flicks. The Mink immediately leaned into her touch, growling happily, and she swore she saw his foot twitch like a dog’s.

So cuuuute! Nami thought, working her hands even deeper into the white coat. And so soft! Almost as soft as Chopper! She allowed herself a brief daydream of cuddling up by a fire on a cold winter’s night, using Bepo as a pillow while Chopper lay against her legs in his reindeer form.

“That’s enough you two.” Law’s voice broke her out of her fantasy, and instinctively Nami glared at him. However, she didn’t miss the brief hint of a grin that tugged at his lips at the sight of his navigator so happy. “Bepo looks like he’s about to pass out.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Jealous?”

His face settled back in a scowl. “If I’m stuck playing this game, I’d rather not waste time watching my navigators fondle each other.”

Annoyed, Nami gave Bepo one more pointed scratch before returning to her spot. Darn. For a second, she’d thought Law might have started to relax a bit. Instead, he was stubbornly staying too grumpy to even flirt with her, and she’d lobbed him a softball!

The lots were pulled again, with Uni earning the King spot. “Number ten must sit in number one’s lap for the next three rounds.”

Ermine was the unlucky one, as Bepo gingerly lowered himself onto the cook’s lap.

“I’m putting you on a diet!” they groaned, voice muffled by the Mink’s thick fur as their legs sank deep into the sand under the added weight of a fully-grown polar bear.

“I’m sorry,” Bepo replied miserably, hanging his head.

“You’re not putting him on a diet,” Law snapped, glaring at his crushed subordinate. “Bepo’s a healthy weight for his size and species.”

Ermine didn’t dare argue. Not just because trying to do so with the ship’s doctor would be suicide, but because they didn’t have enough air in their lungs.

“Since Ermine’s a bit…indisposed at the moment, I think they should sit this one out,” Penguin stated as he collected the sticks.

“Agreed,” they wheezed.

Discarding one of the numbered sticks for later, the first mate held out his fist, prompting everyone to draw.

Nami was the lucky lady, and she gave a catlike grin as she considered her potential victims. Should she demand their wallets? No, they were wearing swimsuits, so they probably wouldn’t have them on them. Have someone kiss her feet? Whatever it was, it needed to be devious and hilarious if she wanted any chance at getting Law to enjoy himself. The man took sadistic pleasure in other peoples’ discomfort, after all.

The perfect idea came to her like a vision from God. No matter who her command was inflicted on, it would be funny, but if luck was on her side…

“Numbers two and three have to kiss each other on the lips for three seconds.”

Inwardly she cheered as, across from her, the first and second mate gaped down at their numbers in abject horror.

“You know, I used to like you,” Shachi groused while Penguin glared at her.

“Ha!” Ermine laughed weakly from under Bepo’s furry mass. “Looks like I got off easy.”

“Watch it, asshole, or I’ll take my sweet time and let you suffer!”

“Nami, please reconsider!” Penguin begged, shuddering at the mere thought of kissing his best friend. “We agreed to keep it PG-13, remember?”

The Straw Hat shrugged nonchalantly, which was heavily at odds with the evil grin etched on her face. “It’s just a peck—hardly anything scandalous.”

“A three-second peck is still three seconds too long!”

“Aww, don’t tell me you’re afraid of cooties!” Ikkaku jeered, which made Penguin blush in embarrassment.

“I’m not afraid of anything! I just have standards!” Shachi defended himself.

“Hey!” Penguin snapped, looking wholly offended. “Fucking excuse me, but standards? I’ve seen some of the women you’ve slept with, and I’m sure as hell prettier than your last one-night stand!”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean, creampuff?”

“It means you can’t attract good-looking women to save your life, barnacle-face!”

Nami rolled her eyes at the childish fight and was about ready to knock them both over the heads to put an end to the argument when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

For a second, it looked like Law’s mouth had twitched upwards. It could have been a trick of the light, or he was actually amused by his friends’ obvious discomfort just as she’d planned. Not willing to let the chance to get Law back in good spirits slip away, Nami pointedly cleared her throat to catch the duo’s attention.

Clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes, she gave her best pout. “Please, boys? For me?”

“And me?” Ikkaku joined in, mimicking Nami’s flirtatious pose.

Weak against the machinations of such beautiful women, their resolve wavered and Nami, locking eyes with Penguin, jerked her head towards his captain and gave a subtle thumbs up. Penguin seemed to catch on to her meaning, as he gave a small, resigned nod before sighing and grabbing Shachi’s head to slam their mouths together for a quick, awkward kiss.

The moment his grip loosened, Shachi jerked away, spitting and sputtering with disgust. “Oh gods! My mouth! You’ve poisoned me!”

“Believe me, I didn’t like it any more than you did, dickhead,” Penguin grumbled as he furiously wiped his lips. Taking pity on the poor man, Ikkaku passed him his water bottle, though she didn’t bother to repress her snigger when he swished a large gulp of water around his mouth before spitting it out.

Meanwhile, Nami peered at Law, hoping his sour shell had finally cracked. But while he wasn’t glaring at them all like he was plotting how to brutally murder them and hide the evidence, his expression was still far from his normal carefree smirk.

“Good to see you’re both so secure in your masculinity,” he sneered.

“Give me a break, Law,” Shachi coughed, though there was a slight hint of red in his cheeks at being called out. “She might as well have asked me to kiss my brother. My gross, ugly-ass brother.”

“Love you too, man,” Penguin replied sarcastically as he collected the lots, pointedly ignoring the rest of the crew’s sniggering.

The next two rounds, though amusing, were fairly uneventful; Jude got his feet kissed by Jean Bart, much to the larger man’s obvious disdain, and Nami, upon becoming King again, demanded a shoulder massage, which Ikkaku was all too happy to give. The rest of the men certainly had no complaints about getting to watch the two beautiful women in sexy bathing suits pamper each other, so the round lasted nearly a full five minutes without even Law interjecting to hurry them up.

In fact, Nami could feel Law’s hot gaze upon her as she arched into Ikkaku’s touch. The engineer was surprisingly good with her hands and her skilled fingers even managed to coax out a few pleased sighs from the thief’s lips as she worked at a knot of tension in her shoulders. Through hooded eyes, Nami noticed the tip of Law’s pink tongue peek out to moisten his lips as he leaned forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers as he observed the motions of Ikkaku’s fingers as they kneaded her skin.

Nami had the feeling that he was taking notes for his own fiendish use. Her suspicions were confirmed when Ikkaku managed to press down on the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder; Law’s golden eyes practically lit up when she let out a faint, involuntary sound of delight.

The attention they were getting didn’t escape Ikkaku’s notice, either. “God, you’re all animals,” she groused, rolling her eyes as she pulled away from Nami. Patting her friend on the head, she said, “I’ll finish the job back our cabin, Nami. Away from prying eyes.”

“Sounds good to me,” she teased back despite her mild flush. She justified the sense of satisfaction she felt to the fact that, despite the show being over, some of the tension in Law’s shoulders has eased as if he’d been the one getting the massage. He hadn’t quite reached to point of relaxation, but it was clear the game was successfully beginning to distract him from his obsessive planning.

A few more rounds passed before Penguin had the good luck of becoming King. He rubbed his chin in thought as he considered his order. “Number eight has to do an impression of number one.”

“Ooo, I got eight!” Ikkaku shouted, grinning widely. A gleam of pure mischief twinkled in her brown eyes. Across from her, Law sighed, raising the stick to show he was number one.

“Remember who signs your paychecks,” he grumbled, scowl once more settling across his face.

“‘Remember who signs your paychecks’,” she repeated, voice dropping a few octaves as she smirked. Getting up, she struck a few poses, dramatically holding out her hands like Law did when he used his powers. “Room. Shambles.”

The group chuckled and sniggered around them while Law continued to glare up at the engineer as if he was trying to set her ablaze with his mind. None of them felt particularly bad about cheering Ikkaku on; considering what she’d gone through on Grimm, she was probably the only one besides Nami who could get away with a less-than-flattering impersonation of the captain. In fact, Jude and Seiuchi decided to aid her impression by getting up and switching places in the circle, gasping in mock surprise at their new positions.

Emboldened by her fellow Heart Pirates’ approval, Ikkaku melodramatically recoiled from some imaginary horror, face twisting in disgust. “Ugh, is that bread?! So help me, I’ll switch your brain and your bowels if I find so much as a crumb on my plate!”

Nami stifled a cackle behind her palm as she noticed Law’s cheeks heat up just the slightest bit. “I do not sound like that,” he scoffed, arms folded tightly across his tattooed chest.

Ikkaku donned a serious expression, mimicking his posture and frowning down at Law as if in the midst of a stern lecture. Their eyes locked, and an unspoken challenge was declared. “Ikkaku, you can’t install lasers onto the sides of the ship because they’re not yellow! I committed to this obnoxious color scheme, and damn it, you’re not going to ruin it with your cool ideas!”

“I never said that.”

“Ikkaku, you’re the most brilliant, valuable member of my crew and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I definitely never said that.”

“Ikkaku, you’re fired.”

“Now that I have said. Multiple times.”

Plopping down onto the sand and reclining against Bepo, she cheekily flipped her captain off. However, it seemed the ridiculousness of the situation finally broke Law, as his scowl dissolved as he chuckled and returned the gesture, admitting defeat.

Whether he was overtired or he legitimately found it funny, it didn’t matter; at last, the brooding captain was having a bit of fun.

Determined to keep his spirits up, the crew eagerly drew numbers again, each planning their own silly command. Seuichi had the honor of becoming King that round and rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Number nine has to wrestle number six.”

“In the name of every god ever dreamed up throughout history, I will make you fucking pay for this,” Jude snarled at him as Jean Bart proved that he’d drawn number nine.

“Hey, Jude, don’t be afraid,” the gunner countered with a smirk, twirling his thin mustache deviously. “I’m sure Jean Bart will go easy on you. I mean, it’s not like you had him kiss your feet recently, right?”

“Yeah,” the helmsman said menacingly, cracking his knuckles. “You’ve never done that.”

Jude stared at Law beseechingly, but the captain merely smirked and ordered, “You reap what you sow. Maybe this'll teach you to be a bit nicer to your shipmates.”

“This is gonna suck,” he muttered as he squared off against the much larger man.

It did. Jude didn’t even last ten seconds before he was put in a headlock and forced to tap out.

Next, Law drew the King stick, and that oh-so-familiar smirk finally adorned his face. “I order ten and five to worship me and declare how great I am.”

Nami gave a quiet sigh of relief that she hadn’t drawn either number. She wanted Law in a good mood, but a girl had her limits. Game or not, her literally worshiping him on her knees was the exact kind of thing he’d hold over her head for the rest of the year.

After Uni and Penguin finished extolling their captain’s virtues for a good three minutes, it was time for the next round.

“Woo, I’m the King!” Shachi cheered as he held up the stick adorned with the little crown drawing. Behind his sunglasses, he peered at the circle mischievously. Reaching into a nearby beach bag, he pulled out a small box. “Your illustrious ruler demands that number seven and number four play three rounds of the Pocky Game.”

Glancing down at her popsicle stick, Nami silently cursed her luck; the number seven was written at the top in bold, black marker. Brown eyes darted about the group, wondering who she’d have to play with until they landed on Law’s wide smirk. Silently, he turned his stick for all to see, showcasing the number four neatly printed at the top.

“Holy crap,” Shachi sniggered. He didn’t even need to see Nami’s number—her mortified expression said it all. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Gleeful at the unexpected vengeance, Penguin eagerly leaned forward to hand her the box. “No need to be shy, number seven. It’s just the Pocky Game—hardly anything scandalous, right?”

The navigator glared at him before heaving out a sigh. “Right,” she grumbled, grabbing the strawberry pocky and shuffling over to sit across from Law. It was for the greater good, right? They were trying to keep the grumpy captain out of his sour bubble. It was no big deal; she could always break away before their mouths got anywhere near each other.

Smug grin widening, the captain leaned in as Nami slipped the creme-covered biscuit stick between her lips. “It’s ok if you chicken out after the first bite, Nami-ya,” he teased as he gently bit down on the other end, gold eyes bright with amusement.

Fire flashed in Nami’s eyes. She might not mind being a coward in most situations, but this time, her pride was on the line.

Her righteous courage abandoned her quickly, though. The moment she felt his hot breath tickle her nose she jerked away, blushing in embarrassment as she realized there was still a good two inches of pocky dangling from Law’s mouth.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he chewed on the crunchy treat.

“Only if you’re ready to eat what’s basically a breadstick,” she countered, hoping to gross him out so he’d back down.

Law didn’t fall for her ploy. “It’s closer to a cookie, really, and those I can stomach. Especially if the prize at the end is worth it,” he replied with a leer, deliberately running his tongue along his upper lip.

Why am I even freaking out about this? Nami wondered as she pulled out another stick of pocky. If we do end up kissing, who cares? It’s just a brush of lips. Completely innocent. No worse than Shachi and Penguin’s peck. More importantly, I can’t let him psyche me out—he wants that way more than a tiny, indirect kiss.

Determination returned, she carefully balanced the thin treat between her teeth, steeling herself as Law slowly leaned in to take the other end. This time, they managed to nearly bite their way to the middle. Unfortunately, a gentle breeze blew in, causing a loose strand of Nami’s sweetly scented hair to flutter against Law’s nose. His nostrils twitched at the delicate tickling, and this time he pulled away, turning his head in anticipation of a sneeze that never came.

“Shit,” he growled, annoyed at his ill luck.

A smug smirk curled Nami’s lips. “Now who’s the one chickening out?” she teased.

“I didn’t chicken out. Or would you rather I sneeze all over your pretty face?”

“Yeah, that was one hell of a sneeze,” she replied sarcastically. She didn’t know why she was provoking him—the man was far from shy about looking for an excuse to kiss her, and her cheek basically guaranteed that he wouldn’t let her off easy in the last round.

She refused to acknowledge the tiny voice in her ear whispering that she knew damn well why she was egging him on. That she got a primal thrill sassing such a dangerous man and coming out alive when so many others couldn’t. Taunting Law was like playing with a tiger; he could rip her to shreds if she grew too careless, but he’d wouldn’t sink his claws in so long as he enjoyed the chase.

Law stuck the final stick of pocky between his teeth, beckoning her forward with a “come hither” curl of his finger. In response, Nami rested her hands on his bare knees as she leaned in, bracing herself as she wrapped her lips around the other end. Their gazes locked, and in sync, they slowly started nibbling along the sweet, crunchy stick.

The seconds dragged by as, inch by inch, their faces drew closer. Nami tensed as she felt his exhalation warm her skin, while Law’s eyes suspiciously flicked towards her hair as if daring it to interfere again. However, neither pulled away, and he pounced on the opportunity presented to him; angling his head and closing the last centimeter between them to brush his lips across hers in a chaste but teasing fashion. When Nami didn’t immediately pull away, Law tested his luck further by lightly catching her plump bottom lip between his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue to soothe it.

The action sent tingles down Nami’s spine and she finally broke away, cheeks red and breath quickening minutely. It had been barely more than a few seconds—the kiss she’d given him at the gala had been longer—but the tension between them had made it a tempting, sizzling experience.

“So,” Law drawled, watching the Cat Thief as she shuffled back to her spot like the hungry tiger he was, “who’s up for another round?”

The pair was so focused on each other they didn’t notice Shachi and Penguin subtly low-five while Bepo and Ikkaku shared a thumbs-up.

XXX

“Seriously? We leave you alone for a few minutes and you’re back at your plans?” Nami sighed as she plopped onto the towel next to Law, eyeing the messy papers in his hands disdainfully. The King Game had ended not long ago with everyone in good spirits. Even Nami, despite her lingering embarrassment from the kiss, had managed to enjoy the final round where Jude had to serenade the crew by singing “Dr. Heart Stealer.”

“The deal was that I would play for thirty minutes and then you all would leave me in peace,” he replied, not even looking up from his notes. He’d escaped back to his makeshift workstation the moment Bepo had inadvertently caused a commotion when, tempted by the smell of fresh fish, he’d absconded with the large sea bass Ermine was preparing to grill. The rest of the crew had chased after him; some in hopes of saving their dinner, others treating it as a new game.

That left no one but Nami to confront the workaholic captain, even though she would have been happier to keep her distance for a while longer. “That deal was solely between you and Shachi as you were non-specific regarding the plurality of ‘you’. You really must be tired if you missed an important detail like that.”

He scowled, realizing that she was right but refusing to admit it. Changing tactics, Law tilted his head slightly, smirking down at her with hooded eyes. “If you’re so concerned, I’ll take another break later if you make it worth my while. Perhaps with another round of the Pocky Game?” he purred.

She flushed slightly at his suggestion but refused to let him distract her, instead turning her attention to the books before them. “You have five seconds to finish whatever you’re doing before I toss those into the ocean.”

Annoyed, he glared at her defiance before reluctantly activating his Room, teleporting the books, papers, and Kikoku safely inside the submarine. There was too much of a risk that she’d make good on her threat and destroy his work, and he also wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from cutting her to bits if she did. “That’s the last order you get to give me tonight, Nami-ya,” he grumbled. “I don’t take kindly to being bossed around.”

Rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, she leaned back on her hands, enjoying the sensation of the warm sun on her face. Honestly, he should be thanking her. Days like these were too perfect to waste studying, and the tide was coming in—his work would be ruined anyway if he didn’t get those books off the beach. “You really are such a control freak. Would it kill you to listen to the wisdom of those around you for once?”

“Are you saying you don’t get caught up in your cartography?” he challenged.

“Look, as someone who used to be forced to work nonstop without food or sleep for days on end, I fucking appreciate it when my nakama makes me take a break.”

Law grunted in reluctant acceptance, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared out at the vibrant waves that slowly threatened to encroach his spot. “I do appreciate their concern, but they should also respect my authority as captain.”

“They do, Law,” Nami sighed, rubbing her temples, “but respect and blind obedience aren’t the same thing. You’re practically killing yourself working on those plans; are the guys supposed to just sit by and watch? And considering how…personal this all seems to be, they have even more right to be worried and tell you to take a step back.”

“Yes, it is personal—that’s why I can’t leave anything to chance. Atifakuto is known for its museums and art auctions. If I’m to blend in well enough to get my hands on that vase, I need to be well-versed on history and art throughout the four Blues.”

Ah. No wonder he’d been so intent on studying. “I get it; this is important to you, tons of preparation is needed, and a lot relies on you. But planning to the point of sleep deprivation is only going to increase your chances of messing up. You need to sleep, Law.”

“Contrary to what you might think, it’s not my work that’s been keeping me awake. I can’t sleep—insomnia’s a bitch like that. The body may crave it, but the mind has other ideas.”

“You managed to catch a nap earlier,” she argued weakly.

“Oh yes, because a brief doze in the sun makes up for nearly a week of nightmares.”

Brown eyes widened in surprise. Nightmares? Nami wondered. What kind of nightmares could the Surgeon of Death get?

Realizing he’d given her a nugget of personal information he hadn’t intended, Law’s entire expression closed off as he got to his feet. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Law—”

He turned towards the eastern side of the beach, the bold face of his back tattoo smiling mockingly at her as he activated his Room. “I’ll be back by sunset,” were the last words he said before he vanished, replaced by a broken, rusted metal bar.

XXX

Law wasn’t back by sunset, though the crew assured Nami that there was no reason to worry.

“Law loves to go on long, aimless walks,” Bepo said as he handed her some pineapple slices. He’d managed to eat the giant sea bass before the crew caught him, but they’d stumbled upon some ripe fruit in the process, along with a bed of oysters, so Ermine had reluctantly forgiven him. “They help clear his head when he’s got a lot on his mind or his insomnia gets bad. If we can’t get him to sleep, this is the next best thing. At least he’s not working.”

She hummed in reply, still mulling over what kind of nightmares a man like Law could be having. Were they related to Amber Lead, or was it something else? The man was a renowned sadist and didn’t seem to blink when it came to murder or torture, though admittedly the only people she’d seen him actually harm were utter scumbags.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Skua and Malamute, the engineers having at last come out of the ship. Their brows furrowed as they looked around at the small gathering, confused.

“Where is everyone?” Skua asked, taking a plate of steamed oysters.

“Probably still exploring the island,” Ermine said with a shrug.

“It’s not a big island; shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“You know Cousteau; maybe he found some pond full of weird fish or something and is making everyone document their behavior throughout the day.”

Malamute’s brow furrowed. “I’d believe that if it were just him in charge, but you’re forgetting Crozier’s with him. You know, the man who survived a forced march across an island literally made of ice and rocks? That guy doesn’t fuck around; if he says the crew will be back by sunset, they’ll be back by sunset.”

Penguin considered his words, rubbing his chin. “You’ve got a point. They might be in trouble.”

“Or they’re on their way back now,” Shachi said with a shrug, chowing down on some grilled fish Bepo hadn’t gotten to. “There aren’t even any predators on the island, and if anyone got injured, they would have called on Crozier’s mini Den Den Mushi.”

The bushes behind them rustled loudly, and Shachi jerked his head in their direction. “See? That’s probably them now. Or maybe it’s Law, and you can ask him to Scan the island for them.”

Before anyone could reply, a massive boar burst out of the jungle, squealing in fury as it barreled into the camp, knocking over tables, chairs, and umbrellas. Instinctively, Penguin grabbed a burning stick from the fire and waved the hot flame at the beast in hopes of scaring it away. However, its green eyes flashed in clear anger at the threat, and, sharp tusks gleaming in the red glow, it let out another loud squeal before charging at the first mate, showing none of the instinctive fear one would expect for the man’s primitive weapon.

Acting fast, Ikkaku tackled Penguin so the boar just missed them, the soft beach sand cushioning their impact. However, the beast didn’t stop, using its momentum to make a U-turn for another attempt on the group.

It didn’t get far, though, as Jean Bart managed to grab it mid-charge and pick it up as if it were no bigger than a corgi. As the boar squealed angrily, he chucked it up into the air, watching as it flew in a wide arch high above them before landing somewhere in the middle of the jungle.

“Where the fuck did that thing come from?” Ikkaku panted.

“The jungle, obviously,” Jude groused, helping her and Penguin to their feet.

“But boars aren’t native to the island,” Uni pointed out. “Last time we were here, only birds and turtles had managed to make this place their home. So either it washed up on shore in that shipwreck, or someone brought it here.”

Skua knelt down and studied one of the debris in the woodpile. “This looks like it could have been part of a crate. Or a cage.”

Nami remembered the metal bar Law had switched himself with. “My money’s on cages. Maybe that pirate ship was transporting animals.”

“Do you think there are more of them?” Shachi asked as he pulled a pistol out of his beach bag.

Uni peered into the shadowy trees. “Who knows? Maybe something even worse is lurking in the jungle, waiting to pick us off.”

“The last thing we need is you freaking everyone out with your ghost stories!” Ermine snapped, even as he grabbed a large carving knife to use as a machete.

Penguin frowned as the crew armed themselves with the knives and pistols they’d habitually brought along. “Ok, given the fact that we were literally just attacked by a wild animal, I say we should start looking for the others. If nothing else, if a boar was able to survive the shipwreck, then it’s possible something more dangerous did, too. There may even be human survivors.”

“Do we split up or stay together?” Jean Bart asked.

“Hmm, split up into smaller groups, but no one’s to wander the island alone. That way we all have someone watching our backs while still covering the optimal amount of ground. That work for everyone?”

“Aye-aye!” they shouted, pairing up as they headed into the dense foliage, lanterns and weapons in hand.

“I’ll catch up!” Nami called out to them, sprinting towards the small motorboats. There was no way she was going to go wandering around a jungle with so much skin exposed again; she learned her lesson after Little Garden. She also wanted to grab her Clima-Tact; Ikkaku had been modifying it that morning, so it was likely still in their quarters.

To her surprise, instead of following the others, Bepo stayed with her. “None of us should go wandering off alone, right?” he explained nervously. “And somebody should head back to the ship to call Crozier; at the very least, they need to know there’s potentially dangerous wildlife around.”

“Good thinking,” she said, climbing onto the boat and revving the engine. It only took them a few minutes to get to the submarine, but she could tell Bepo was fretting from the way he clicked his claws together. “They’ll be fine,” she assured as she scaled the side ladder onto the bottom deck.

“I hope so. Maybe they ran into Law?”

“If they did, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Bepo sighed as they stepped into the comparatively cooler interior of the submarine. “I’ll go make the call; meet me on deck in a few minutes?”

“Sure; I shouldn’t take long.” True to her word, Nami dashed to her quarters and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved top. The fabric was stifling against her skin, but it was better than risking another Keschia bite. Her hand hesitated over her Clima-Tact and holster; Ikkaku had told her she’d managed to increase the power of a few things, but they hadn’t been properly tested yet. Should she risk it? Ikkaku was good with machines and gadgets, but she wasn’t Usopp.

Couldn’t turn out any worse than the first time, she decided, recalling her battle with Ms. Doublefinger. If she could secure a dark horse victory with a weapon she’d never even used before, she could certainly manage with a modified one.

Weapon securely strapped to her leg and delicate skin protected from any prehistoric bug bites, Nami determined she was ready. However, as she trotted down the hall, she hesitated in front of Law’s quarters.

Though her trust in Law had grown to the point where she didn’t think he’d be selling Vegapunk’s weapons research, she still wanted to take a look at Harpin’s ledgers. Wanted to finally unravel the mystery as to why Jinbei had set Arlong loose in the East Blue. She’d noticed some of the research had centered around cyborgs; Franky could use that. Then there was the stuff on Kuma and the Pacifistas—if they needed to fight him again, she’d much rather know what they were up against. There was intel on Blackbeard, too; considering how he was the reason Luffy’s brother was dead, she had no doubt her captain would end up fighting him. Any information she could give him could save his life!

She’d considered just asking Law if she could look at them. Surely he’d understand her reasons; be able to appreciate her desire to plan and be prepared. But the time was never right—he was either obsessively planning and thus rather ornery and volatile, or they were in the midst of some crisis and it would slip her mind. Besides that, she still wasn’t sure why he wanted them.

The information in those books is more valuable to me than everything in that mansion combined, he’d sneered during their fight. But what information was that? He’d burned the blackmail and Marine profiles. As far as she knew, he’d kept his word and not sold any of Vegapunk’s weapons research. Hell, he’d been more interested in his fertilizer formula, and that was as a favor to Nami.

If the research and blackmail weren’t what he wanted, why did he got to so much trouble to get those ledgers? What other information could possibly have been worth nearly getting himself and his crew killed?

By process of elimination, that left the book on the shichibukai, and with his control-freak tendencies and his violent reaction the last time they’d discussed it, she wasn’t sure he’d be willing to part with it.

She could borrow it, though. Grab it, hide it, make a copy, then find a way to return it without him noticing.

Unconsciously, her hand slowly raised to the cold steel door handle. This was the first time the ship had been completely empty. Everyone was preoccupied on the island. Surely she could take a few minutes to grab the ledger from Law’s room, right? Just a quick in-and-out. He didn’t need it at the moment—it had nothing to do with his plans. He wouldn’t even miss it.

Cautiously, she tried to open the door. Locked. She could easily pick it with her tools, though. She could pop back into her room, grab them, jimmy the lock, grab the ledger, pop back out…

She was wasting time. Bepo was waiting for her. What would she tell him if he saw her breaking into his captain’s room? Or worse, what if Law suddenly returned? He could teleport back to the ship without her even realizing, and she doubted he’d be happy to see her there, especially when his crew was in potential danger.

If Nami wanted to get that ledger, she’d need a much better plan than some spur-of-the-moment burglary attempt.

Making a mental note to start working on that once the current crisis was over, she sprinted back to the main deck to find a worried and dejected Bepo.

“They didn’t pick up.”

A thousand outlandish scenarios about what could have happened to them popped into Nami’s head, from cannibals to the island actually being a sentient being that had been slowly devouring the crew for sustenance.

God, she missed Usopp. At least when he was around, she had someone to blame when she got worked up like this.

“M-maybe we should stay on the ship. You know, in case they try to call us?” she said nervously, her old scaredy-cat tendencies bubbling to the surface.

“But what if no one finds Law? Even if the others return, we’ll all just have to head back out into the jungle to find him. It’s better to find him first, and you saw him last, right? You have the best idea where he might have gone.”

Slumping, she sighed. He was right, and unfortunately, Crozier and Cousteau’s team had gone West, so it was unlikely the search party had thought to go in Law’s direction. “I guess you’re right.”

By the time they arrived on the shore the rest of the crew was long gone, so Nami and Bepo headed East towards where she’d seen Law wander off.

“Even if there are wild beasts, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Law,” Bepo assured her confidently as they searched, keeping to the outskirts of the jungle. The tide had washed away Law’s footprints, but they were hoping to find some sort of clue or disturbance along to foliage to see if he’d ventured into the jungle. “I’m sure he’s already on his way back; we’ll find him in no time, and then he can use his powers to Scan the island and make sure there’s nothing else dangerous!”

Nami’s mouth twisted in disdain. She was beginning to understand why Law put so much pressure on himself; his powers, plans, and medical abilities were everyone’s go-to solution for any given problem. She wondered if Law’s control-freak tendencies were because of this, or if he’d always been that way and the Hearts had just learned to pick their battles.

Regardless, Bepo had a point this time—if Law used his powers, they’d know the situation with the island and where the crew was in one fell swoop.

Life was never that easy, though. Icy dread crawled down Nami’s back as she caught a flash of yellow near the edge of the jungle. Heart in her throat, she darted towards it, barely restraining a strangled sob when she realized it was the shredded remains of Law’s swim trunks.

Oh my God! Nami could feel sharp tears sting her eyes as she collapsed to her knees, cradling the tattered mesh in her hands. Up close, she could clearly see it had been torn apart by a razor-sharp blade or, more likely, claws and teeth. What could have done this? There’s no way it was a boar! Please don’t tell me he’s—

She jumped as a set of long, sharp claws filled her vision, only to realize it was Bepo reaching for the piece of cloth.

“There’s no blood,” he mumbled, studying it closely.

Hope filled her chest at those simple words. If there was no blood, there was a chance Law was perfectly fine! Probably buck-naked, but that was way better than dead!

Her happy bubble burst when a strange, husky sound reached her ears. Goosebumps rose up along her arms as she realized it was a growl of some kind.

She lifted her head slowly, only to find a pair of wild gold eyes peeking out from the darkness of the jungle. The beast moved closer, and Nami found herself mere feet away from a snarling snow leopard, its white fangs bared menacingly.

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