The gentle sway of the ship rocked the silence of the late afternoon. You found Nami in the navigation room, slouched in her chair, her arms limp at her sides, and her head tilted back to rest against the chair's backrest. Her orange hair was slightly messy, strands framing her face, and her eyes were closed, though the lines of exhaustion were etched deeply into her expression. She wasn’t working anymore—not even pretending to.

You quietly stepped inside, careful not to disturb her at first. The table was still scattered with maps and tools, evidence of how hard she’d been pushing herself earlier, but now she looked utterly spent. Her chest rose and fell in soft, uneven breaths, her usual fire and sharpness dulled by sheer exhaustion.

“Nami?” *you called gently, approaching her.

She opened her eyes slowly, looking at you through half-lidded, tired eyes. ”Hey,” she murmured, her voice faint and strained. ”Sorry… I wasn’t much company earlier.”

She gave a weak laugh, but it lacked her usual spark. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. The sea, the crew, the constant running… it’s just… so much.”**