#WaterChestnut Fanfics

[waterchestnut123]

Ch 5  | To Catch A Turtle Dove

Fandom: One Piece Setting: Victorian AU Genre: Action, Adventure, Humor, Friendship, Romance. Pairings: Law/Nami Rating: M - Mature (for language, drinking and alcohol, death and some moderate gore, other adult themes)

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Chapter 5: Grandeur

The carriage trundled smoothly through the thin layer of snow coating the road, lights from the distant castle twinkling in the falling darkness. She was rather quickly nearing the castle, her carriage one of many in a long line of others far finer than her own. With trembling fingers she surreptitiously smoothed the fabric of her pale blue gown as she stared out the window. It was almost show time, and for the first time in years she felt the grip of pre-performance anxiety.

She stared down at the small lump in her lap that was her gloved hands resting beneath her ankle-length fur-trimmed cloak. Her brow furrowed as she focused on her breathing. In—out; in—out. She could do this. She had prepared tirelessly for weeks: memorizing the castle’s first floor layout late into the night with Robin at their small kitchen table; practicing the finer points of the waltz with Sanji on the cleared tavern floor.

Closing her eyes, she reviewed her character and back story once more in her mind, reciting lines like a mantra.

She was Bellemére Devrie—niece to Dorland Devrie, a prominent merchant in the capitol. She was visiting from Goa for the winter—for she had never seen a Flevance winter before and was eager for the experience—when the Lord’s invitation arrived unexpectedly by messenger. Her Uncle and Aunt fell ill just before the ball, but not wishing to deprive her the exceedingly rare opportunity to see Castle Trafalgar in the snow, encouraged her to attend despite their absence. She was a sweet and demure young woman of 20—a tad naive, but eager to see new things and engage in new experiences.

Opening her eyes, she smoothed out her features and allowed herself to slip into character.

She could do this.

All too soon the carriage was pulling up to the gate house, the muffled sound of scuffling feet on snow dusted earth prompting her to turn her attention to the window. A young man with half-moon glasses and messy orange hair sticking out awkwardly from beneath a bowler hat stood beside the carriage door in a crisp wool coat, eying her expectantly.

“Invitation?” he queried automatically, steam puffing from his lips.

Wordlessly she extended her silk gloved hand through the close of her cloak, offering him the envelope through the window. He took it and lifted the invitation from its confines before raising his gaze to eye the interior of the carriage.

“And the rest of your party?”

She smiled softly, willing her heart to slow.

“Fallen ill, I’m afraid,” she said sadly. The man nodded, returning her envelope through the window.

“Welcome to Castle Trafalgar, Miss Devrie. Please enjoy the festivities.”

She nodded as the driver’s reins snapped loudly in the cold, opting to leave the curtain open as the carriage continued on up to the circular drive. That was the first hurdle successfully crossed.

Castle Trafalgar was large and imposing against the fresh dusting of snow which surrounded it. Made of dark stone, four circular turrets marked each corner of the structure, rising four stories above the ground. A line of servants stood at the foot of a short flight of stairs leading up to the castle—a large set of of tall, intricately carved and polished wooden double doors serving as its entrance.

As her carriage pulled up to the front of the castle, she steeled her nerves. Time to put on the performance of a lifetime. She took a breath, slowly releasing it as a servant approached the side of the carriage, pulling the door open with a click and standing rigidly beside it to allow her debarkation.

Putting on an expression of wide-eyed excitement, she hugged her cloak around her shoulders, grabbing her fan and purse from her lap and lifting herself from the cushioned seat, nimbly stepping down from the coach with the aid of a proffered hand from the servant. Her feet hit the cold stone with a muffled click.

She had to suppress her instinct to thank the man—there could be no thank-you’s tonight, at least not to people like him; not if she were to pass as a high class lady. Instead she kept her eyes forward, daintily lifting her skirts as she followed the flow of people into the brightly lit castle where the music of a string orchestra drifted through the open doors.

Ascending the wide stone stairway, she could feel warmth radiating from the interior as she neared the doorway, music and laughter growing louder upon her approach. Stepping over the threshold, she couldn’t help the way her eyes widened in genuine amazement as she took in the magnificent sight of the foyer.

Meticulously crafted wood-paneled walls rose two stories high, a sparkling crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling like a work of art. A large, semi-circular staircase rose in grand fashion before her at the opposite end of the large room, burgundy rug running up its length and polished wooden bannister gleaming in the light. A short staircase descended beneath it, leading to a modestly sized parlor with a roaring fireplace at its far end.

Dozens of finely dressed men and women in coats and cloaks and hats milled about the foyer, quite a bit more finely dressed than she. While her bodice was quite lovely—elaborately beaded with small, clear crystal beads in swirling patterns atop pale blue silk, her skirt was plain—pleated and simple with relatively little adornment. She wore simple white silk gloves which came to rest just above her elbows, and had opted to keep her hair simple as well: styling it in a partial updo—hair braided into a bun at the back of her head, with a small selection of tight ringlets falling from it to her shoulders.

Many of the other women present were drowning in flower motifs and lace and bows, with flowers and diamond-studded pins adorning their hair. It was clear that this would be the social outing of the year if not the decade, and most women, it seemed, had dressed accordingly. But the relative modesty of her ensemble suited her purposes just fine. She wanted to fit in with the crowd—which she did, but also to remain as unremarkable—and unremarked upon—as possible.

Before she could fully gather her bearings, still oggling the polished marble floor and magnificent staircase, she was being approached by a finely dressed servant who offered her a polite bow.

“May I take your cloak or purse, madam?”

Nami blinked, shaking off the glittering trance and forcing her attention to the man. Turning, she offered him a soft smile.

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

With cold fingers she pulled back her hood, careful not to disturb her hair which she had spent many tedious hours styling, and untied the large bow at her chest allowing the man to gently pull the cloak from her shoulders. He then slung it neatly over his arm.

“And your name, Miss?”

“Bellemére—Bellemére Devrie.”

“Very good, Miss Devrie. Your items will be available from the coat check when you are ready for them, simply provide your name to one of the staff and they shall be fetched for you. Please enjoy the party.”

He gestured briefly to the far left side of the room—towards a set of open double-doors, inside of which lay row after row of racks filled with coats, hats, purses, and cloaks. A string of attendants stood before it, and Nami watched as the man turned for the room with purposeful strides.

The man failed to indicate where she should go, but her rigorous study of the layout and the steady flow of guests down the center stairway was clear enough suggestion; so she followed, allowing herself to hide within the crowd as she descended into a sparsely furnished parlor, then turned left and up a short flight of stairs into the ballroom foyer, beneath another set of intricate semi-circular stairs, and through yet another set of large double doors into the ballroom.

Her feet traded rich burgundy rugs for smooth parquet and once more she found her feet slowing to a stop, eyes growing large at the sight which greeted her. She knew the Trafalgars were wealthy—all the Lords of every Province were wealthy; but her thefts in the well-to-do districts of the capitol had not prepared her for such lavish grandiosity.

The ceiling rose two stories high, an intricate mural painted upon an inlaid ceiling. Large marble pillars supported a narrow second floor balcony which edged the ballroom, elegant wrought-iron railing topped by a polished wooden bannister. Ten foot tall floor-to-ceiling windows faced the front of the castle on the left side of the ballroom, draped in fine sheer curtains with large arrangements of poinsettias and ivy sitting upon small circular end tables between them. The parquet was smoothly lacquered, its geometric pattern intricate and grand. Delicate crystal chandeliers as large as her bedroom in Robin’s apartment hung at intervals from the ceiling, the flames of tall taper candles flickering against the crystal causing it to sparkle and glitter like diamond.

In the corner to her left, upon a raised wooden dais sat a small string orchestra, elegant music echoing through the massive room as a handful of enthusiastic couples waltzed through the center of the dance floor. A selection of velvet benches and chairs were arrayed in the opposite corner to the musicians on her right, and tables draped in neatly starched white table cloths with elegant poinsettia centerpieces were surrounded by carved high-back wooden chairs, situated in clusters at the far end of the room where two doors opened out onto a balcony.

So this was the kind of wealth power possessed.

She was pulled from her trance by a gentle bump to her shoulder, a young man with a lady on his arm pausing in his stride to turn to her.

“My sincerest apologies, Miss! Did I hurt you?” he inquired with utmost concern, the young lady stopping and turning to her with a gentle smile.

“Ah—no, I’m quite alright,” she recovered quickly, gently shaking her head as she turned to the man and offered a smile. The girl, it seemed, had taken note of Nami’s wide-eyed wondering gaze as she looked to her with a knowing smile and elegant nod of the head.

“It is quite grand, isn’t it? I have always wondered what Castle Trafalgar looked like—and now we have our chance to see!”

“Quite,” Nami agreed, the sentiment genuine.

“I’m Jacqueline, by the way—Jacqueline Daine; and this is my brother Phillip,” she introduced.

The young man reached for her hand, gently lifting it to his face and allowing his lips to linger on her knuckles longer than she knew to be strictly appropriate.

“Charmed to make your acquaintance,” Philip offered with a suave smile. Nami smiled demurely, anxiously waiting for him to release her.

“It is lovely to make your acquaintance as well,” she offered, carefully avoiding giving her name. The less anyone knew about her—false backstory or no, the better. If either of them were bothered by her lack of return they did not show it.

As Phillip released her hand, Jacqueline leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially.

“I am absolutely dying to meet Lord Trafalgar—so few people have ever seen him outside the castle; certainly not since all that fuss 8 years ago with the succession. Rumor has it he is quite handsome!” she shared enthusiastically, “Though… if that is true, I cannot fathom why he is still unmarried.”

“Is he?” Nami inquired with feigned surprise, eyes glancing about subtly, seeking an excuse to depart their company.

“Oh, yes—it’s grown into quite the scandal of late. He turns thirty this spring; can you imagine—thirty and unmarried! How does he expect to carry on his line?”

Though Phillip had seemed for all the world utterly disinterested in his sister’s gossip, this comment pulled him into the conversation.

“Well I, for one, would be quite alright with Lord Trafalgar remaining unmarried and allowing the custodianship of Flevance to transfer to another noble family—ours, for instance,” he added with a touch of humor and a wink in her direction. Jacqueline gently swatted him.

“Hush, Phillip! Don’t let anyone hear you saying such things!” she chastised, spreading the blades of her fan and airing herself lightly as a flush rose to her cheeks.

“Besides,” she commented smoothly, “There is still Lady Lami. It’s always possible he may choose to name her his successor, and we all know how many suitors have thrown themselves at her feet. A husband and children are certainly in her future.”

The ballroom had filled up during her impromptu conversation with Jacqueline and Phillip, and a convenient lull had suddenly appeared in the conversation. While she found the rumors surrounding the Trafalgars of potential aid to her plans tonight, she was not eager to make friends and had other more important things to attend to.

“It was a delight to meet and speak with you both, but I’m afraid I must excuse myself,” she said suddenly, offering them both a demure smile and a curtsy.

Jacqueline looked a bit put out but recovered quickly, Phillip taking her hand once more, bowing.

“It was a delight to meet you. When you are ready for your first dance, I would be quite honored to be your partner,” he commented smoothly, and Nami forced a light laugh from her lips to appear appropriately charmed. Jacqueline simply giggled.

She turned and made her way slowly back the way she had come, through the double doors of the ballroom—but instead of proceeding straight into the parlor she turned and made her way up the stairs to the second floor balcony.

Though occupancy of the ballroom had already grown quite a bit, guests were still arriving and butlers had only just started to move about the floor balancing trays laden with champagne flutes. She had, by her estimate, about a half hour before all the guests had comfortably settled in the ballroom, and another hour before the crowd had grown properly inebriated. That gave her an hour or two to complete phase one of her plan.

Every thief knew never to pickpocket or burgle an alert or wary target; and alert and wary was what these people would be until the ball was in full swing. And once the champagne began to flow and guests were on their second and third drinks, their guard would become significantly lowered; that was when she would begin pocketing goods. But before she could do that, she needed to case her targets first: to familiarize herself with the guests, the stationing of butlers and servants—assess who was flaunting their wealth the most and would make the best marks, and remain as invisible as possible while doing so.

And the relatively empty balcony would serve as an excellent vantage from which to begin.

Slowly, quietly, she walked the circumference of the ballroom, eyes trained on the milling crowd as the room filled to capacity with ladies in voluminous gowns and men in sleek black suits. She could tell even from this distance that almost any gentleman would make an excellent mark. So distracted were they already by the low necklines and alluring lift of the ladies’ bodices, it would be criminally easy to swipe every valuable on their person after a drink or two.

Her eyes darted to the tables at the far end of the room, several of which had a purse or two left behind as women were lead out onto the dance floor. She smiled. The abandoned purses were also on her list.

Satisfied with her initial assessment, as her circuit of the balcony came to an end she descended the steps once more and made for the ballroom floor. Time to analyze her marks up close.

She made her way slowly, methodically, through the finely dressed crowd, eyes darting over each woman’s jewelry, listening carefully to snippets of conversation as she went in the hope it would hint at the various guests’ level of attentiveness.

In a way, it did; for coming from the lips of every lady she passed was constant, endless gossip. It seemed Jacqueline wasn’t the only woman curious about and eager to meet the mysterious Lord Trafalgar.

There was no end of speculation as to the nature of his solitude here at the castle. Some thought him simply inanely private, while others suspected him of illicit activities. There was speculation as to why he was still unmarried when all the rumors suggested he was dashingly handsome. Some claimed he was cruel, others claimed he was uninterested in women—which strangely seemed to excite the ladies further, and yet still others believed he simply did not intend to father children—instead passing succession on to his sister. By the time she made one full loop around the floor she was dizzy with speculation. But she had learned one thing: none of these women would see any of her thefts coming.

Feet beginning to ache in her formal boots, she decided on a brief break, moving towards the long wall and taking a comfortable seat atop a plush velvet bench, spreading her fan to air herself gently as she pretended to watch the dancers, instead tuning her ear to the conversation flowing around. One particular group of young ladies walking by were in the middle of an animated conversation when they stopped near her, huddled together a short distance away and perfectly within earshot.

“I know father would never approve, what with his reputation, but… I intend to win his heart, tonight,” one young woman stated with boastful certainty. The girls around her giggled.

“Oh, how exciting! My cousin, the future Lady of the Province!”

“Have you met him yet?” another asked enthusiastically. The boastful girl frowned.

“No—I haven’t seen him or Lady Lami about,” she said sadly. The other girls looked put-out as well.

“Do you know what he looks like? No one I know has ever met him before.”

“No—I was simply looking for a man wearing a sash in the Lord’s colors.”

Another girl, one who had been quiet throughout much of this exchange, finally spoke up, voice soft. “Do you think… do you think there is any truth to the rumors? About why he is unmarried?”

The boastful girl scoffed. “Of course not! The Lord remains unmarried because he chooses, and no other reason.”

“But… what about the duel? Father says he cut—”

“Uncle wants the custodianship, so of course he believes the rumors,” the boastful girl interrupted with certainty. “But we all know that will never happen—he is fourth in line and simply bitter about the fact.”

The soft-spoken girl sighed quietly, sounding thoroughly defeated. “I suppose you’re right,” she conceded.

“Of course I’m right,” the boastful girl said gleefully. “I will be the future lady of the province, after all…”

Nami sighed quietly. Gossip, gossip, and more gossip! She had heard quite enough rumors by now—they were starting to repeat themselves. Ignoring her tired feet, she rose from her seat, making to continue on with her scouting from the other side of the room. However as the music from the last set wound to a close, another song did not follow; and by the time she was halfway across the floor she heard a tinkling sound coming from the balcony, and the sudden hush of voices throughout the room. Glancing around she noticed everyone looking up and followed their gazes. As she caught sight of what had everyone’s attention she came to a sudden standstill.

Two people stood at the rounded extrusion from the second floor balcony at the mouth of the staircase: a lovely young woman with light brown hair dressed in an elegant lavender gown who looked to be around Nami’s age; and a tall, handsome man with smoothly combed raven hair and neat sideburns who looked to be about, well, twenty nine. But it was not their striking features nor sharp golden eyes which caught her attention first—no; it was the gold sashes with black trim, and the snowflake shaped pin attached to their shoulders and the snow leopard pendant hanging from their hips.

It was the Lord and Lady Trafalgar—in the flesh.

The Lady offered the crowd a dazzling smile, gently tapping a knife against her champagne flute once more. The lord, however, looked utterly impassive, hands clasped behind his suit jacket. As the crowd began to hush and turn their attention to him, however, his posture suddenly shifted. The cold formality melted away, and in its place was a stern yet friendly authority, speaking in a deep, soothing voice over the crowd.

“Thank you all for making your way through the snow to visit our humble home,” he began with just a hint of a smile. “I hope you are enjoying yourselves. I won’t take up too much of your time. As this gala was my sister’s doing, I shall allow her to formally welcome you to tonight’s festivities.”

He took a small step back then, allowing attention to fall upon the charming, fairer-haired young woman. She lowered her champaign flute, smile wide and glittering like the diamonds which encircled her neck.

“Thank you, Law,” she said fondly before turning to the crowd, “And thank you all for coming! I know we Trafalgars tend to keep to ourselves—and yes, we are aware of the rumors,” she teased with humor, offering the crowd a subtle wink which elicited amused laughter from the guests, “But I assure you that our privacy is merely a matter of circumstance and distance—especially in the winter months when we get snowed in here at the castle.”

With all eyes on the charming Lady of the house, few seemed to notice as Nami did the way in which the Lord’s eyes scanned the crowd with a searching, scrutinizing gaze. Her brow furrowed as she watched him. It was as though he was… looking for something, or suspicious of the crowd as a whole. Odd, though she supposed there was quite a bit of mystery surrounding him if the gossip she had overheard tonight was any indication.

No sooner had her thoughts begun to circle him than his eyes stilled in their sweep, cutting over the crowd to fall directly upon her. For a moment their gazes locked—sharp, piercing golden eyes boring into her own. She felt panic rise within her, her cheeks heating under his scrutiny. Flipping open her fan she quickly rose it to her face, fanning herself as casually as possible while quickly shifting her eyes back to the Lady and hoping the fan would cover at least some of her features. She could feel the burn of his gaze still upon her, but she forced her eyes to remain focused on the Lady. With any luck, he would assume her to be simply another of his admirers, caught starry-eyed gazing.

After several tense moments, she felt the Lord’s eyes leave her, and she let out a relieved breath. Lady Lami was still speaking, and by the time Nami could shift her faculties back to the smiling woman she was finishing her speech.

“It has been far too long since we have had the opportunity to gather and celebrate in the company of Flevance’s most esteemed families; and so in the spirit of maintaining the ties between our houses which have long made this Province great, I decided we were quite overdue a winter gala. So please, enjoy yourselves! Eat, drink, dance, and be merry!”

With a wave of her hand in the direction of the orchestra the music started up again, and polite clapping began to spread throughout the crowd. The Lady offered one more dazzling smile, the Lord returning to her side and offering a charming yet subtly devilish smirk. Beside her, Nami heard several young women swoon.

Never before had she wanted to roll her eyes so badly.

As the Lord and Lady turned for the stairs behind them, young women and young men unsubtly rushed towards the entrance of the ballroom, where the pair would shortly be making their entrance. Nami, however, turned in the opposite direction, heading for the outdoor balcony at the far end of the room. She was loath to stand out in the cold, but the Lord’s eyes on her had unnerved her. Though it was unlikely he knew she was not supposed to be in attendance—especially from such a distance, it nonetheless struck her as wise to spend some time outside of his view until he became so overwhelmed by the mob of enamored young women he forgot her entirely.

As she approached the two sets of double doors, a servant standing in between them reached for a stack of folded knit blankets, offering one to her.

“Would you care for a blanket, madam?”

Nami felt relief flood through her as she accepted the proffered garment and slung it diagonally over her shoulders, wrapping it tightly about her and crossing her arms against her torso. Then, she stepped out into the cold night air, missing the brief but thoughtful glance thrown her way by the Lord from across the room.

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[waterchestnut123]

CH 4 | To Catch A Turtle Dove

Fandom: One Piece Setting: Victorian AU Genre: Action, Adventure, Humor, Friendship, Romance. Pairings: Law/Nami Rating: M - Mature (for language, drinking and alcohol, death and some moderate gore, other adult themes)

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Chapter 4: Nojiko and Rebecca

“Half a mast—just floatin’ there in the water off the cliffs!”

“Shipwreck, ya think?”

“That’s what ‘e thinks, least. Up near the northern coast of Flevance.”

Nami leaned against the deck railing of the ferry keeping her absent gaze on the approaching docks, but tuned a curious ear toward the fisherman conversing against the cabin wall behind her.

“Makes sense. Those waters are damn scary. Any survivors?”

“None that ‘e found when ‘e went ta look, though ‘e said ‘e didn’ get too close—you know ‘ow the tide is up there. ‘e did find a piece ‘o hull though. Poor crew musta gotten thrashed on the rocks in that storm th’other day.”

The second man tutted, a protesting squeal from the hinges of the cabin door sounding behind her before the loud thud of it closing, muffled voices continuing through the wall.

She shook her head. It was a right shame, if true—no one deserved to die at the hands of the northern coast. They were the most treacherous waters in all of Grandlin, subject to strong winds, unpredictable tides, hidden rocks, and occasional sheets of ice. She would have to remember to mention it to Robin once she returned home tomorrow, though—the older woman always was oddly fascinated by such morbid stories.

The wind and sea spray began to die down as the ferry approached the Cocoyasi docks, and Nami felt a familiar twinge of homesickness as the deck hand jumped off the boat onto the docks, another shipmate tossing him a rope to secure the craft. The two fisherman and only other passengers—headed to a different island in the chain—returned to the deck, conversation now focused on the falling price of tuna as she pulled away from the rail and made for the short gangplank now being lowered.

Nami stepped carefully down the sloping wood, heels thumping noisily as she landed on the worn dock. It had been at least six months since she’d been here—early summer and sunny with blue skies. Now, though the islands were far warmer than Flevance, still the approach of winter was evident in the grey clouds covering the sun from view and the subtle bite to the air. A gentle breeze pulled at the hair she wore long and loose down her back as she tucked her bag more firmly under her elbow and made her way down the dock and towards the village which raised her.

It was an easy walk up the dirt road, Cocoyasi visible atop the crest of the hill. She gazed at it fondly before turning her head to follow the path she knew lay beyond her sight, from the village’s center to the cliff jutting into the ocean on her left, where her childhood home lay hidden by the trees.

As she approached the village’s small main street two young boys playing a raucous game of tag spotted her. Jonny careened to a halt in the middle of the road, waving enthusiastically in her direction and ignoring his companion who ran headlong into his back.

“Namiii! Welcome back!”

She smiled at the boy, his companion soon spotting her and waving as well. They didn’t wait for her to reach them, instead running up to her, eyes expectant.

“Did you bring us anything from Flevance?”

Yosaku always did cut right to the chase. She laughed lightly, crossing her arms and bringing a finger to her chin.

“Hmmmm… Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Perhaps if you remind me who the most beautiful woman in all the Conomi islands is, my memory might return…”

“You are!” They shouted in unison, saluting her with practiced ease and wide, appeasing grins. She smiled.

“And don’t you two forget it!”

Hand slipping into her pocket, she tossed each of them a small bag of Sanji’s homemade lemon drops with a wink. “Courtesy of the best chef in the Capitol.”

“Thanks Nami!” they chimed enthusiastically before running off into the trees, giggling. She smiled fondly, watching them settle at the base of an old stump before continuing on to the village.

The main thoroughfare was rather empty, fisherman still out for the day and the women likely tending to lunch. A few who noticed her popped their heads out into the street to say hello, and she cheerfully greeted them in return.

She reached her first stop quickly, stepping up to the small clinic at the end of town. Inside Nako sat at his desk on the far side of the room, oblivious to her entrance until the door swung shut with a thump. He looked up and smiled upon seeing her, waving her over.

“Ah, Nami! Good to see you—it’s been a while!”

She smiled, striding towards the desk.

“Hey Nako. How are you?”

He stood and offered her a hug before settling into his chair, sitting back as he observed her leaning against the desk.

“Ah, I’m quite well. Here about Nojiko I presume?”

“Yes—how has she been doing? Are her tests looking any better with the new medication?”

The jovial look on Nako’s face fell slightly, and he sighed. Nami felt her own smile fall as well.

“Well… she’s not worse. It’s difficult to say she’s doing much better, though.”

Nami nodded with a small sigh, reaching into her bag.

“I suspected as much. Any outstanding payments due?”

Nako nodded, reaching for his ledger and flipping through it.

“Ah, not too much. 300 Belli. I was going to go up there this afternoon to collect it, actually.”

Nami smiled wryly. “Well, I’ll save you a trip, then.”

She counted out the bills and set them on his desk.

“Are you heading up there now?” he inquired, turning for a drawer.

“Next stop.”

“Could you bring her this? I wanted to start her on a vitamin supplement. I worry she’s not eating enough. In fact… if its not too much, make her lunch while you’re there? I think she could use a good meal.”

Nami reached for the bottle of white powder, tucking it and a proffered measuring spoon into her bag.

“One spoonful in a meal or drink a day.” He instructed.

“I’ll pass that on,” she responded, looking up to hold his gaze meaningfully. “Thank you, Nako.”

He smiled kindly, standing to escort her as she headed for the door.

“Anything for you girls. You take care now, you hear?”

“You too.”

She bid him farewell, waving as she stepped back out onto the road and took a side path up the cliff to the cottage.

A sea breeze blew in off the water, the scent of salt filling her nostrils, and she tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, thoughts far away. Nojiko could really use more help. Nami was already making the budget stretch fantastically to accommodate employing Chabo to maintain the tangerine grove for her; and Rebecca’s expenses were ever growing…

She let out a familiar sigh. The answer was the same as it had always been.

They needed more money.

Almost before she realized it the small cottage was looming before her and she shook her head to clear her troubled thoughts, putting on a cheerful smile. Aunties should always be smiling. Straightening, she knocked firmly on the door and soon Genzo answered, a bouncing, giggling Rebecca on his shoulders.

“Ah, Nami! Good to see you! Come in, come in!”

He smiled broadly, standing aside as Rebecca began animatedly attempting to wriggle out of Genzo’s hold.

“Nami! Nami! Nami!” she chanted and Nami laughed, turning to the excited toddler.

“Becka! Becka! Becka!” Nami chanted right back, a finger rising to tap the girl on the nose, eliciting a delighted squeal.

Genzo chuckled, closing the door and shepherding her into the small living room where Rebecca’s efforts to reach for Nami finally became too much for the older man. With a huff, he reached up and lifted her, extending her to Nami’s waiting arms.

“Nami!” squealed the girl, and Nami laughed.

“Rebecca!” she echoed, giving the girl a tight hug.

“Dids a bwing pwesents?” the girl inquired with wide eyes, and Nami tutted.

“Little girl, I think you’re getting spoiled!”

“Spoiled gets pwesents?” she inquired seriously, and Genzo laughed.

“I did warn you Nami,” he opined with amusement, plopping down onto the living room sofa with an exhausted huff.

Nami chuckled, setting Rebecca on the floor and kneeling before her while digging through her bag.

“Well, miss Rebecca, I do have a present—but only for polite little girls who say please and thank you,” she said sternly, lifting a small, gently worn doll from within the confines of her bag and shaking it gently. Rebecca’s eyes popped and she immediately stilled, hands fisting the dirty pinafore atop her over-sized blue dress.

“Auntie can I pwease has my pwesent?” she inquired with careful effort, and Nami struggled to keep a straight face.

“That’s better,” she said approvingly as she extended the doll towards her. It was snatched with excited hands, held briefly at arm’s length for a quick examination before being clutched tightly to her chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed excitedly as she jumped up and down, and Nami finally allowed her grin free.

“You’re very welcome. Why don’t you go play with your new dolly in your play corner while Grandpa Genzo and I talk, hm? I’ll make us lunch, too.”

“Okay!” she answered excitedly, before running to a corner of the living room where a stack of wooden blocks and worn children’s books lay in a heap. Nami let out an affectionate sigh before standing and turning to Genzo, who looked ready to fall asleep.

“I take it Nojiko’s resting?” she inquired over Rebecca’s excitable burbling.

Eyelids drooping, Genzo nodded, letting out a weary breath.

“Rebecca insisted on playing tag in the grove this morning. Drove Chabo absolutely nuts,” he chuckled, “Really wore me out, too.”

Nami nodded with understanding. Rebecca was… quite energetic at times.

“Why don’t you take a nap. I’ll watch Rebecca and make us all lunch, and wake you when its ready.”

Gen’s eyes were already starting to close when he murmured appreciatively, “You’re a godsend, Nami.”

She chuckled, twirling on her heel and heading for the kitchen.

The kitchen was better stocked than she expected but less well stocked than she would have preferred. Eying the available ingredients in the pantry, she selected materials for a basic chicken noodle soup. Rebecca, thankfully, played quietly in her corner for the duration of the soup’s cook time, and when she finally wandered into the kitchen having exhausted the novelty of her new doll, Nami was ready to set the table.

“Take these and put one in front of each chair,” she instructed, handing the girl four rolled up napkins. She nodded seriously, toddling off to the table and struggling to reach up to its surface, dutifully placing a napkin at each setting. Nami finished the rest, strapping the girl into her third-hand high chair with a selection of peeled tangerine slices as she went to wake Genzo. But as she passed the hall, she caught sight of Nojiko stumbling out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Spotting Nami, she grinned broadly, affect immediately cheering.

“I thought I heard your voice,” she said affectionately, crossing the distance to give her adopted sister a hug. Nami held her tightly in return, noting with some displeasure the boniness of her shoulders.

“I made lunch. Table is already set, why don’t you go sit down? I’m just going to wake Gen from his nap.”

Palpable relief flashed briefly in her eyes and she nodded. As Nojiko headed for the kitchen Nami headed for the living room, finding Gen lying exactly where she’d left him, head resting at an odd angle against the back of the sofa with his mouth hanging open, softly snoring. She repressed a snort, gently kicking his shoe with the toe of her boot.

“Lunch is ready, Gen. Up-and-at-em.”

He snorted and jerked, sitting up blearily and bringing a hand to rub his eyes.

“Lunch?” he inquired hoarsely, and she nodded.

“Come get it while it’s hot.”

He followed her into the kitchen, the two of them sitting at their respective place settings as the older man insisted upon saying Grace for the occasion—to which Nojiko and Nami grudgingly complied. It was difficult to say no to the closest thing they had to a father when it mattered so much to him and was such a trifling matter to them—especially when they all three saw each other so rarely.

The meal was a warm and peaceful affair, with Rebecca making a proper mess and Genzo being rewarded with a tangerine to the face (an event which left both Nami and Rebecca in a fit of giggles). However, soon the skies began to dim, and Genzo was due to depart for his rounds about the village. Nojiko lifted Rebecca from her chair, excusing herself to put the girl down for her afternoon nap, and Nami saw the old policeman to the door.

“It was good to see you, Nami,” he said as he pulled on his coat, the cooling outside air seeping in as he tugged on the door. “Don’t work yourself too hard, you hear?” Nami smiled as she pulled him in for a hug, tugging the blanket from the couch around her arms more tightly in the chill.

“I could say the same to you. And hey—” she interrupted, sticking her head out the door to glance up at the sky, “Bring an umbrella with you tonight. It should start raining a little after sundown.”

Genzo simply shook his head, smiling, as he donned his cap.

“It’s creepy how you do that, you know.”

Nami rolled her eyes but couldn’t help her smile. “You’ll thank me later, like you always do. Have a good night, Gen. And thanks for looking after Nojiko and Rebecca for me.”

“Anything for you girls,” he replied warmly, tipping his hat before heading out the door.

Sliding the deadbolt into place, Nami returned to the kitchen to gather their plates, replacing the blanket around her shoulders with an apron before starting on the dishes. She was in the middle of scrubbing some dried on tangerine flesh from Rebecca’s plate when Nojiko returned, taking a seat at the table with a tired sigh.

“I see you’ve been spoiling your niece again. She took her new dolly with her to sleep,” she commented with amusement.

Nami let out a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t be a good auntie if I didn’t.”

Nojiko smiled as Nami set the now sparkling plate onto the rack, drying her hands before turning back to the table where her bag hung from the corner of her chair. She reached for it, taking a seat and digging through the contents. Pulling out a fat stack of bills and the bottle of vitamin powder. She slid both across the table.

“I stopped off at Nako’s on my way up and paid off your outstanding balance. He told me to bring you this,” she said gesturing to the bottle. “It’s a vitamin powder; take one scoop full every day in a meal or drink.”

Nojiko eyed the items a moment before pulling both towards her.

“Lunch, money, and errands? I take it back, you’re not just spoiling Rebecca you’re spoiling me too.”

“Nonsense,” Nami scoffed, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. “It’s hardly spoiling you if it only puts food on the table.”

Nojiko flipped through the stack quietly before pocketing it, offering her a wry smile. It had been only in the past year Nami had managed to get Nojiko to take the money without question or fuss.

A comfortable silence lapsed between them before Nojiko spoke again. “Will you be spending the night? Rebecca would love to spend more time with you if you’re able.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Never,” Nojiko insisted with a smile, making to stand. “I’ll go get your bed ready.”

Nami stood quickly, gesturing firmly for Nojiko to sit. “Ah, ah—I’ve got it. You relax, I’ll go turn down the sheets.”

Nojiko looked like she might object a moment, but then suddenly swayed gently on her feet and sat back down.

“If you insist, I suppose,” she acquiesced.

“Always,” Nami said with a wink, turning and heading down the short hall.

Their old room was largely as she’d left it so many years ago—spartan and unadorned, the sheets stacked and folded neatly in the scuffed wooden dresser. She grabbed them and brought them to the bare mattress, but there she stilled, setting them at the foot of the bed before slowly sitting down next to them with a sigh. Finally, briefly, she let the smile she’d kept in place all afternoon fall. She leaned back on her hands, staring up at the cracked and peeling paint of the ceiling before closing her eyes wearily. Nojiko and Rebecca needed so much more than they had.

Three more days. Three more days, then she’d rob that ball blind. She set her shoulders before opening her eyes and standing to make the bed.

For Nojiko. Nojiko and Rebecca.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

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