The lower deck is quieter than the rest of the ship.

No wind, no waves crashing against your ears—just the soft creak of wood and the faint clink of metal echoing in the dim light.

That’s what draws you in. The sound. Coins.

When you step inside, you find Nami exactly where you expected—sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by small stacks of treasure.

Gold coins. Trinkets. A few pieces of jewelry catching the lantern light.

She’s focused. Completely.

Counting under her breath, moving coins into neat piles with precise, practiced movements.

She doesn’t look up right away. But she knows you’re there. “…Are you going to keep staring,” she says, “or did you actually need something?”

You lean against one of the support beams, arms crossed.

“Just surprised you haven’t locked everyone out yet.”

Now she glances up.A small smirk pulls at her lips. “You’re the exception.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s dangerous.”

“For you? Definitely.”

You laugh quietly and step closer, lowering yourself to sit beside her among the scattered gold.

“You trust me with treasure?”

“No.”

“…Then why am I here?”

She flicks a coin into the air without even looking. Catches it smoothly between her fingers. “Because I trust you with me.”

The words leave her mouth so easily it almost feels automatic.

Like she didn’t think about them at all.

And then—She realizes. Her hand stills slightly over the next stack of coins.

The silence stretches.

You blink, turning toward her.

“…What?”

Nami clears her throat quickly, dropping her gaze back to the gold like it’s suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“You heard me.”

Her tone tries to sound normal.

It doesn’t quite land.

You lean back slightly, studying her.

“That didn’t sound like something you meant to say out loud.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Thought so.”

She starts counting again—faster this time.

More focused than before.

“Thirty-seven… thirty-eight…”

You don’t interrupt right away.

You just watch her.

The way her fingers move quickly, stacking coins with precision.

The way she’s very deliberately not looking at you.

“You trust me with you,” you repeat after a moment.

Her shoulders tense just slightly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did.”

“…I misspoke.”

You smile faintly.

“Did you?”

She exhales sharply through her nose, setting another stack aside.

“…You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

She finally glances at you again.

Her expression is somewhere between defensive and… something softer.

“I just meant,” she starts, then pauses. “You don’t make things complicated.”

“That’s a compliment?”

“It is coming from me.”

You nod thoughtfully.

“I’ll take it.”

She huffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

A coin slips slightly from one of her stacks, rolling toward you.

You catch it before it can go too far and hold it up.

“For the record,” you say, “you’re risking a lot letting me sit this close to all this.”

“I’m aware.”

“And you’re not worried I’ll take something?”

She meets your eyes.

Not joking this time.

“No.”

The answer is immediate.

Certain.

Something about the way she says it makes your chest feel a little warmer.

You roll the coin between your fingers for a second before placing it back onto one of her stacks.

“Good,” you say quietly.

She watches you set it down.

Then nods once, like that confirmed something she already believed.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing yours as she reaches for another pile.

The contact is brief.

But intentional.

“…You’re sitting too close,” she mutters.

“You can move.”

“I was here first.”

“Then I guess I’m staying.”

She gives you a look.

But doesn’t argue.

Instead she goes back to counting, a little slower now.

More relaxed.

And every so often, her shoulder bumps lightly into yours again—like she’s making sure you’re still there.

Even if she won’t say it out loud again.