Chapter Text
Nami’s day had already started badly, which felt rude considering she hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet.
The campus library was too bright, all glass walls and late-summer sun stabbing directly into her eyeballs. The kind of place designed for people who had the luxury of enjoying sunlight. Nami preferred dim corners, quiet money-counting, and pretending her life wasn’t collapsing like a poorly built sandcastle.
She was halfway through convincing herself that she wasn’t, in fact, one rent payment away from homelessness when someone’s shadow slid across her textbook.
She didn’t look up at first. She assumed it was some frat guy asking for a pen.
But then the shadow spoke.
“Are you Nami?”
God. Of course.
She looked up, and there he was — Monkey D. Luffy, East Blue University’s prized basketball idiot, glowing like a person who had never once worried about rent, debt, or adult responsibilities. He was leaning on her table, grinning, curls messy from practice, a thin sheen of sweat still on his skin like he’d sprinted here the second class ended.
He was… annoyingly handsome.
Annoying because she refused to acknowledge it.
He wore a red hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing tan forearms that should not have been her problem. His smile was bright enough to make the fluorescent lights jealous.
And unfortunately Nami did know him. Everyone did. Even she had laughed — involuntarily — once or twice when she overheard him talk in class. He wasn’t funny on purpose. He was funny because he was genuinely, helplessly Luffy.
“Yes,” she said, expression flat. “Can I help you?”
“I need tutoring,” he said immediately, dropping into the chair across from her like he’d been invited. “In stats. I’m failing.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” she said.
His eyebrows lifted. “It can be a you problem too! If you help.”
She blinked. “That is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard.”
He laughed. It startled her — light, belly-deep, warm. Like sunshine had a sound.
“I really need help,” he said, leaning forward. “I gotta pass this class or Coach says I can’t play this season. And if I can’t play, Gramps will be on my ass, and Sabo will say ‘I told you so,’ and Ace will laugh at me.” Rambling off at the end mostly to himself than at her.
He listed all of this with the earnest panic of a puppy who’d been told he might not get treats anymore.
She might’ve cracked. Just a little.
But her phone buzzed.
Arlong:
Where’s my money? Don’t play games with me.
Her heart jerked sideways.
Nami stood abruptly, shoving her books into her bag. “I have work.”
He blinked up at her. “So… is that a no?”
“Goodbye, Luffy.”
She didn’t look at him again.
She didn’t want to see disappointment on someone
who didn’t deserve to know what she really was.
_________
Buggy’s Clown Café was the only place hiring at short notice, which should’ve been her warning to run far, far away.
It was a nightmare — red-and-white stripes everywhere, circus music on a loop, and her boss yelling from the kitchen like a deranged ringmaster.
“Nami! Table seven needs refills!” Buggy shouted, waving an arm that was suspiciously stained with ketchup. Or… hopefully ketchup.
Nami plastered on her Customer Service Smile™ — the one that hurt her cheeks from how fake it was — and walked to the table.
She could’ve been anywhere else: studying, breathing, existing. Instead she was here, pretending she wasn’t exhausted, pretending she wasn’t terrified, pretending she didn’t have to dodge comments from men twice her age.
“You look prettier every shift,” one said as she poured soda into his glass while he indiscreetly eyed her chest. He looked old enough to be her father.
Nami smiled sweetly and mentally buried him six feet under.
She finished her shift on autopilot, grabbed her bag, and headed straight to the campus quad as everyone gathered near the fountain for some student government “Unity Night.” Free food. Photo booths. Cheap glow sticks. The usual.
Nami was a frequent attender not because she cared at all about unity but because she cared about unattended wallets, distracted students, and cash.
Her life had become one long, desperate equation:
whatever she could steal + whatever she made at work – Arlong’s demands= barely surviving
She hated it.
But she hated the alternative more.
The quad was packed — music thumping, cheap lights strung between trees, students dancing and taking photos. Nami slipped through the crowd like smoke, eyes scanning for pockets, bags, careless boys who thought “losing a wallet” was just a minor inconvenience.
Then she saw it.
A wallet. Black leather. Straw-hat keychain attached.
Of course it was Luffy’s. He’d tossed it on the bleachers earlier after practice, like someone who believed in the goodness of humanity.
She checked her surroundings. No one was watching.
By the time Nami slipped the wallet into her jacket, she felt the familiar cold rush of adrenaline — the one she hated almost as much as she depended on.
She’d done this before but she couldn’t help but feel a slight hint of guilt.
Luffy’s wallet was warm from his pocket. Too warm. Too him.
She shoved it deeper, turned to leave—
And froze.
Because standing directly behind her was Sanji Vinsmoke, campus heartthrob, and man who’d probably practiced smoldering in the mirror.
He raised a blond eyebrow. “Nami-swan… is that Luffy’s wallet?”
Her heart lurched into her throat.
This is fine. Her mouth has gotten her out of worst situations, she just had to think on her feet.
She forced a calm smile. “He…uhh..gave it to me.” She said lamely
So much for using her words to get out of this
Sanji blinked slowly. “He gave you his wallet?”
“Yes.” She said it too fast. She hated herself.
“For what reason?”
“Uhh”
“Oi! Sanji!”
Of course. If the universe wanted to kill her, it could at least be subtle about it.
Luffy jogged toward them, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of a nap and into several good decisions. He stopped beside her, bright-eyed and sweaty from practice.
Sanji gestured accusingly. “Nami here says you gave her your wallet, did you?”
Luffy didn’t even hesitate.
“Yes.”
Nami whipped her head toward him in horror.
Sanji’s arms flailed. “WHY? Since when do you two share wallets?! Since when are you even—close?!”
Luffy froze.
His brain, visibly, audibly, shut down.
And then rebooted.
And then—
He put his arm around her shoulder, stiff and awkward and warm.
“Uh—because…” His voice cracked. “We’re close. We’re… dating.”
Nami choked.
Sanji’s jaw dropped so dramatically he could’ve swallowed the moon. “You’re DATING?!”
Luffy nodded, face pink, eyes wide in “please just go with this please please please.” As if to further his point he kissed her forehead.
Sanji ran a hand through his hair, devastated clearly on the verge saying of saying something else—but before he could get a word out, Luffy had already dragged her half-way across the Quad.
As soon as he was out of sight, Nami shoved Luffy’s arm off.
“WHY would you say that?!”
He blinked. “You looked like you needed help.”
“But dating?!”
“He kept asking questions. I panicked!” Luffy waved his hands helplessly. “I’m terrible at lying! My brain gets sweaty!”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Luffy… I stole your wallet.”
“I know,” he said softly.
She looked up, startled.
He didn’t look angry. Just… gentle.
“You aren’t gonna ask why?” she asked, voice thin.
“No.”
“Why not?!”
“’Cause you looked scared.” He shrugged. “And I don’t need a reason to help someone who’s scared.”
Her throat tightened.
“Are you… gonna reporte me?” she whispered.
“No.” He shook his head, curls bouncing. “But if you wanna pay me back—”
She tensed.
“—you can tutor me. And I’ll pay you. And I won’t tell anyone. That’s a better pitch than before right?”
Silence. Warm, terrifying silence.
“Okay,” she said finally.
If he payed for her tutoring she could probably afford to stop coming to these unity nights to steal.
And she had just tried to steal his wallet so she wasn’t really in a position to say no.
Luffy grinned like she’d given him the moon. Even though technically he was the one doing HER a huge favor.
“Cool! Also, uh—” His smile wobbled. “Sorry for the arm thing and uh.. the forehead. I panicked.”
She rolled her eyes. “I could tell.”
He laughed, and she hated that it made her chest feel… weird.