As noon passed and evening approached, the climate began to shift. A sharp drop in temperature chilled the air, too cold for mere shade from an island. This wasn't the influence of a winter island like Drum, still days away, but something else entirely.
As the sun dipped, the crew grew anxious. Nighttime navigation was perilous, a risk to avoid, yet Nami's fading strength urged them to press on. The Eternal Pose offered no clear distance, and rushing blindly could doom them all. They were closing in on Drum, but how many days remained? Could Nami hold out?
Kiri sighed, wrestling with the dilemma. "Night sailing's too risky. We'll anchor at dusk. Reckless moves backfire, especially without our navigator."
Usopp groaned beside him. "Didn't we sail at night in East Blue?"
"The Grand Line's different. It's more dangerous, and we're shorthanded. We can't afford mistakes."
"Damn it, I just want to hurry!"
Usopp's frustration mirrored the crew's urgency, but recklessness could mean annihilation. The Grand Line taught harsh lessons, and Nami's collapse drove that home. Patience was their only option.
Kiri turned to consult the captain. "I'm checking with Luffy. Take over here."
"Got it," Usopp replied.
Kiri headed to the women's cabin, where Vivi and Silk tended to Nami. Luffy and Karoo hovered, the former chatting as if she could hear. "Maybe she's hungry! A hundred portions of meat'd fix her right up, right, Nami?"
Silk sighed. "Sickness saps even the strength to eat, Luffy. Kiri said so."
"Hmm… what about splashing her with water?"
"No, Luffy-san!" Vivi snapped. "That'll make it worse!"
"She's so hot, though," Luffy mumbled, clueless but well-meaning. His innocence was almost comical.
Kiri approached, catching their eyes. "It's almost night. I say we anchor at dusk. Thoughts?"
"We're in a hurry, aren't we?" Luffy asked.
"Yeah, but night sailing's dangerous, especially without Nami's guidance. Playing it safe is best for her—and us."
"Got it. Let's do that."
Luffy turned to Nami. "Hey, Nami, we're stopping for the night 'cause it's risky. Hang in there for a doctor, okay?" His voice softened, a rare gentleness. The others smiled faintly, warmed yet pained by the scene. Karoo quacked softly, as if cheering her on.
Nami's illness had shifted the ship's atmosphere. Vivi spoke up. "When will we reach Drum Kingdom? Sooner's better, but we can't overdo it."
"We'll sail at dawn," Kiri said. "Drum's a winter island, so this cold might be its influence. But I can't say exactly when we'll arrive."
Silk frowned. "Tomorrow, maybe?"
"No way to know. The distance isn't clear."
"Has Nami woken at all?" Kiri asked.
"No," Vivi said softly.
"She looks exhausted, even sleeping," Silk added. "Her fever's relentless."
"Sleeping's that tough?" Luffy marveled. "Sickness is weird."
"It's brutal," Kiri said. "A world you wouldn't get, Luffy."
Silk and Kiri shared a wry smile. Luffy's innocence lightened the mood, easing the tension. They exhaled, calming their nerves. They were moving forward. That had to be enough for now.
Kiri turned to leave. "Don't overdo it, you two. Rest if you're tired."
"We will," Vivi said.
"Take care, Kiri," Silk added.
"And Luffy, keep it down," Kiri teased.
"Obviously!" Luffy boomed, oblivious to his own volume.
Kiri smirked, heading back to the deck as night loomed, heavy with worry and fatigue.
Nami woke to a darkened room, night having fallen. Her head felt like lead, thoughts sluggish. Struggling to sit up, she noticed the soft breathing of others. Not just one—multiple.
Peering around, she saw the crew scattered in the women's cabin, sleeping haphazardly. Vivi slumped against the bed, Silk curled in a blanket by the wall. Karoo sprawled in the center, Luffy draped over him, snoring loudly. Zoro leaned against the door, arms crossed, while Sanji slept quietly, wrapped in a blanket. Their presence stirred surprise and gratitude in her, a bittersweet smile forming.
She'd worried them deeply. Their warmth was comforting, if unfamiliar in this chaotic slumber party. Her body ached, but she craved the night air. Careful not to wake them, she slipped out of bed, unsteady but determined, and tiptoed to the deck.
Opening the door, she heard voices—Usopp and Kiri. "Hey, Kiri, want some late-night grub?" Usopp called.
"You made food?" Kiri's voice came from above, likely the crow's nest.
"Borrowed some from Sanji. He won't notice!"
"He remembers every ingredient," Kiri warned.
"Seriously?!"
"You're toast when he finds out."
"Then you're an accomplice! Eat with me!"
"Fine," Kiri sighed.
Nami stepped onto the deck, and Usopp froze, spotting her. "N-Nami?! You okay to be up?!"
"Nami?" Kiri peered down from the mast.
"Morning," she said, smiling despite flushed cheeks. "Just needed some air."
Her fever was obvious—ragged breaths, sweat in the cold night. Kiri leapt down, landing lightly. "You shouldn't be up. You'll get worse."
"Yeah, stay put till you're better!" Usopp urged.
"I'll go back soon. It's just… lying there's tough too," Nami said.
Usopp frowned, but Kiri sighed. "Fine, but just a bit."
"Don't encourage her!" Usopp protested.
"She won't listen. A little air might help," Kiri said.
"Thanks. And… sorry for worrying you," Nami said, leaning on the railing to gaze at the sea. Her smile was oddly bright, almost joyful despite her pain. The two exchanged puzzled glances but joined her, unsure why she seemed so content.
"No big deal. Can't help it," Usopp said.
"We should've had a ship's doctor," Kiri added. "Your illness made us realize that. We'll find one at the next island."
"Good. A silver lining, then," Nami chuckled, flanked by the two as they stared at the calm, dark sea. Clouds hid the moon, casting an eerie vastness over the water.
Nami exhaled, her breath visible in the cold. Kiri draped his blanket over her shoulders. She smiled, tickled. He was likely on watch alone, and Usopp had probably come to keep him company. Their care mirrored the crew's in the cabin—quiet, unspoken kindness.
"It's been ages since I was this sick," Nami said softly. "As a kid, Bellemere always looked after me. Peeled tangerines, held my hand till I slept."
"I've never been sick," Usopp grinned. "No experience there."
"That's the rare part," Kiri said. "I was a normal kid—seasick at first, caught colds here. Nothing like now."
"You? Normal?" Usopp teased.
"I think so," Kiri laughed.
Their easy banter felt precious. Nami's smile grew, warm and content. "Being cared for sounds nice, huh? Everyone fussing over you, indulging your whims. You'd like that, Usopp."
"Sure, but sickness sucks," Kiri said. "Health's best—no need for doctors."
"True," Usopp admitted.
Kiri glanced at the water. "Bellemere sounds like a great mom."
"Yeah," Nami said. "We fought a lot, but she's my pride."
"Mom, huh…" Usopp murmured, gazing skyward. He'd lost his mother young, living alone since. His curiosity about family care was earnest, unguarded.
"Moms are tough," Kiri said brightly. "They'd do anything for a feverish kid."
"You've never experienced it," Usopp shot back.
"I can imagine," Kiri replied, both laughing easily, the moment light.
Nami spoke without thinking. "I had a dream earlier. Living with Bellemere and Nojiko. It was tough, painful, but they were laughing so hard. They didn't say it, but I felt they were telling me to live. Then I woke up, saw everyone in the room, and… I laughed. You're all so worried, it's weirdly nice."
"Of course we're worried," Usopp said. "We're nakama."
"You'll be fine. Just hold on," Kiri added.
"I know," Nami said, breathing deeply, her usual spark returning despite her weakness. "You better not let me die. I've got treasures to claim, a world map to draw. If I go, I'll haunt this ship."
"Don't jinx it!" Usopp yelped.
"You could sail with us as a ghost," Kiri teased.
"You're worse!" Usopp snapped.
Their usual bickering made Nami laugh, easing the weight in her chest. Coming out was worth it.
Igaram approached quietly. "Time to rest. Early start tomorrow."
"Hey, old man," Usopp said.
"You're still up, Igaram-san?" Kiri asked.
"Yes. Let's get inside before you catch cold—"
Nami cut in, staring at the sea. "The wind's changed…"
"What?" Usopp blinked.
Her expression turned grave. Kiri tensed, sensing her urgency. "Nami, what do we do? Move the ship?"
"We can't stay here," she said. "Move now. Steer wide toward the island, not straight. Avoid sails—the wind'll tear them."
Her knees buckled mid-sentence, collapsing. Usopp caught her as Kiri sprinted off, slamming the door and banging the walls. "Everyone, up! Move the ship! To the deck, now!"
His shouts roused the crew. Footsteps thundered as Zoro and Sanji arrived first, alert despite the hour. Confusion reigned—Kiri raised the anchor, while Igaram and Usopp fretted over Nami's limp form.
"What's going on?!" Zoro demanded.
"Nami-san?! Why's she here?" Sanji gasped.
"Move the ship!" Kiri barked. "Sanji, get Nami inside!"
"What's the commotion?" Sanji asked, scooping her up.
"She wanted air," Usopp explained. "Then she sensed something—maybe a storm."
"A storm?" Sanji pressed.
"Something bad. We need to move Merry now," Usopp said.
Silk, Vivi, and Luffy burst onto the deck, the women frantic, Luffy half-asleep until Karoo bowled him over. "What's happening?" he mumbled.
"Nami's gone!" Vivi cried.
"She's here," Sanji said. "Went out for air. Reckless…"
"Sanji, Vivi, take Nami," Kiri ordered. "Silk, Luffy, we're moving the ship. Now!"
Silk helped Luffy up as Sanji and Vivi carried Nami inside. The deck erupted in chaos, orders flying like in battle. "Silk, hard to starboard!" Kiri shouted. "No sails—oars out. We row, now!"
"What's coming?" Luffy asked.
"Nami sensed something," Kiri said. "We leave, or Merry's done."
"Dangerous, huh? Move it!" Luffy roared.
Silk manned the helm, the rest grabbed oars. Without sails, they rowed hard, Merry veering from its spot, curving wide per the Eternal Pose. Rowing at midnight was bizarre, but Nami's warning wasn't baseless. They trusted her, moving without pause.
Then Usopp shouted, pointing. "Look!"
Where they'd anchored, a massive cyclone now churned the sea, sudden and vicious. Had they stayed, Merry would be splinters. A chill ran through them.
"If Nami hadn't come out…" Kiri whispered, his voice carrying. "She saved us again."
Her instinct—beyond skill, a blend of talent and experience—was miraculous. The Grand Line's deadliest foe, a cyclone, struck without warning, yet she'd sensed it, protecting them. She was irreplaceable.
United in resolve, the crew rowed on, Merry gliding through the night, their navigator's life—and their own—hanging in the balance.
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