You might be wondering why I'm brooding all alone in the room.
Let me clarify: it's not because of the girls. It's not because of their teasing or their games or the way Carina walks around in barely-there clothing like modesty's a distant memory. No. I'm here because I wanted quiet. A man needs space sometimes to deal with his thoughts. Otherwise he would do something he would regret later on.
Yeah. Quiet. That's all.
So where did things go wrong?
Just yesterday, I was the one holding the cards. I had the power, the position, the upper hand. I was the one who took small liberties, pushed boundaries, tested the waters. Not in a cruel way, not in a way that disrespected them. But enough to feel the edge of control. And now?
Now they're playing with me like a pair of cat with a new toy. With precision. With glee.
Let's back up.
After the fight, after the blood and sweat and chaos had calmed, I made it clear—through action, not words—that I wasn't going to hurt them. Not even if they tried something. Not even if they played me. I could have. I didn't. That mattered.
And they picked up on it immediately.
But these weren't damsels. They weren't lost girls looking for a protector. They were survivors. Fighters. Smarter than me in ways I hadn't expected and expected. They knew what it meant to survive under someone else's mercy. And they didn't like it. So they started testing me.
Pushing my bottom line.
First it was innocent—a glance too long, a touch that lingered. Then came the full performances. Carina especially. She leaned into it like it was a role she'd studied her whole life. Was it to secure more loot? Safety? Partnership? A future?
All of the above, maybe.
She knew I had strength. I had bounty-worthy skills. I could pull weight. So she tested the waters, then the current, and then dove in headfirst.
Nami was different.
I had spoken her name before she told it to me. That alone made her wary. Rightfully so. Her past wasn't a secret to those who knew the map of this world, and I knew it too well. She was cautious. Not just about me, but about what I could be. Another man with strength and no discipline. Another oppressor dressed in polite smiles.
But I never crossed that line.
I watched her. She watched me back. At first with distance, then with curiosity, then, occasionally, with a glance that lingered longer than before. She still hasn't tried to charm me. Not the way Carina has. She's still observing, still calculating.
And maybe—just maybe—she's wondering.
Wondering if I'm the kind of man who could kill Arlong.
But even more than that, wondering if I'm someone who wouldn't become another Arlong.
That's a tall order. But I've tried to show her. In the way I speak. In the way I keep my hands to myself unless invited. In the restraint I show when Carina all but dares me to break it.
Because she does dare me.
Carina isn't subtle. She gave me every opportunity. Even let me take advantage of those moments. She tested me. She wanted to see if I'd take it too far.
But I didn't. I had seen that glimmer of hesitation in her eye. And I stayed a respectable distance. Close enough to honor her boundary. Far enough to not break it.
And she and Nami both felt that. That pull. That stop. That line I wouldn't cross even when the temptation was as easy as breathing.
That night I held her as she slept—that was different. That wasn't seduction. That was trust. That was exhaustion and vulnerability wrapped into a moment of calm. I held her, and she didn't flinch. She didn't armor up.
She curled into me.
I was her safe heaven for the night from the waves and the world.
And Nami saw it.
She didn't say anything. She never would. But the way she looked at us—there was something there. Not jealousy exactly. But a kind of longing. Like she wished, even just for a second, that she had a space where she could feel safe like that too.
Then came the tickle fight.
Childish? Maybe.
But real. Laughs unguarded. Eyes wide. Smiles without calculation. Even Nami joined in, even if she tried to act above it. That moment sealed something. It told them I wasn't just another mercenary with a bounty and a sharp blade. I was human. Fallible. Stupid sometimes, but not dangerous in the way that mattered.
And once they realized that?
Oh, the gremlins came out.
Carina, full force, went from flirting to active seduction. Poses. Clothing choices. Stretching in ways that made my blood pressure spike. She knew I was looking. Hell, she wanted me to look. And I did. Because I'm human.
But I didn't act.
Nami, still keeping her distance, started to let her guard drop. She showed me her real side. The navigator. The woman who loves maps and weather patterns and arguing over berry prices. She let me see her.
And they both saw me.
Not the bounty hunter. Not the killer. Not the stranger.
Just me.
That was my mistake, wasn't it?
I let them see too much. I let myself be known. And once they knew I wouldn't snap, wouldn't grab, wouldn't hurt them—they felt safe enough to start playing.
So yes, the teasing intensified.
And yes, I let it both knowingly and unknowingly.
Even the mask of the bounty hunter I wore gave way to their teasing and flirting.
Because a part of me liked it. Not just because I'm a man with eyes and a pulse. But because we were showing each other something true behind lies. When we ourselves don't know what was true and what was false.
Still, it was wearing me down.
We weren't in love. There was no such thing as Love not among us three. We three had enough experience, enough world experience some good but mostly bad to not fall that easily. They were wise and intelligent beyond their years. And with wisdom and intelligence falling in love becomes harder.
All of this was just a way to seek comfort from an unusual soul in these waters. At least that's what I told myself.
I sighed and slapped my own cheek lightly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
Then the door creaked.
And in walked Carina.
Wearing the bare minimum.
Of course.
I met her with a smile this time. Honest. Resigned. Shameless, even.
Might as well enjoy it without breaking the fragile something we three had between us.
-------------
"Zoro??"
I muttered the name without thinking, confused.
How the hell did these two know Zoro?
Nami answered calmly.
"Kare wa senchō o koroshi, nidoto modotte konakatta."
I blinked and reached for the kanji book Usopp had given me. With time I figured out the rough translation.
Captain. Killed. Never returned.
My fingers stilled.
She was saying Zoro killed a captain—and then vanished. No follow-up. No explanation.
Just disappeared.
I looked at Nami. She didn't flinch under the weight of my stare. Didn't add anything else unless asked. It took some time, and more digging, but I got the rest of the picture.
Zoro had taken out the captain of the crew for bounty. A solid kill. But then, instead of sticking around or taking the rest of the crew apart, he vanished. Lost. Typical. And he was in the ship. How the hell does someone get lost in a ship?
I blinked more times than I cared to admit.
So with their leader dead, the shattered remnants of that crew did what most broken pirates did—they crawled into the arms of a bigger name. The 18 million bounty crew I'd already taken apart. Turned out, that merger didn't go smoothly. Factions formed, loyalties split, chaos bloomed.
And from the ashes, opportunity.
That's where the girls came in. They used the cracks, widened them, and took advantage of the confusion. Played both sides, stole freely while no one was paying attention. Another mess tied neatly with a ribbon—and I hadn't even known Zoro started it.
I rubbed my forehead, slow, pressing fingers into the skin.
It felt like fate was folding in on itself. Again.
Even in this vast ocean, the Strawhat pirates kept intersecting with my path like magnets drawn to steel. The odds were too thin to feel like chance anymore.
And Zoro?
Of course he'd vanished.
Of course he'd left the job unfinished.
Maybe he was the one I would find if he had a better sense of direction.
If he hadn't gotten himself lost on the ship itself, he would've cleared the rest of them out. No way a guy like that left survivors unless he couldn't find them. But knowing him he should be swimming in the waters or he was half way into another anime.
I shook my head, rubbing my temples harder. This sea was mad. Or maybe I was. Either way, it was exhausting.
A gentle hand brushed mine away.
Carina.
She took over the task, massaging my temples with slow, circular motions. Her touch was soft. Confident. Unbothered.
Nami sat opposite us, speaking in a quieter tone now. Simpler kanji, easier pace. She was helping me understand the story, keeping it structured, not mocking my slower reading. Just walking me through it.
Strange, how normal that felt.
So, in the end, I had Zoro to thank. His disappearance had left a power vacuum, which created opportunities, which let me walk into two crews worth of bounties half-done. A clean-up job with high reward.
I let the thought fade.
There were more pressing things to deal with.
Like Carina.
Somewhere along the way, she'd slid into my lap. Not fast. Not sudden. Just a slow, natural shift—one moment beside me, the next curled against me like she belonged there.
And now she was moving.
Her hips rolled slowly. Smooth and purposeful. Not frantic. Not aggressive. Just enough to test me. Enough to wake every nerve and set fire to restraint.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her body did the talking—shifting slightly, teasing, smirking every time she felt my reaction.
I gripped the seat's edge, knuckles tight. My breathing had slowed, but not in a calm way. Focused. Controlled. Barely.
If I didn't, I would be panting like a dog in heat.
She pressed closer.
Her weight grounded me, but her movement unmade me. Her arms draped around my shoulders, lips just inches from my neck, breath warming the air between us. Every grind of her hips felt deliberate—targeted.
A message: You want this. And I know it.
She was right.
God help me, she was right.
But every time I edged closer to giving in—every time I felt the urge to push forward, to take what was clearly offered—the rational part of me screamed.
Short-term gain. Long-term risk.
Don't screw it up.
Don't ruin this.
The rational side of me screamed.
I hated that part of me.
Carina must have sensed the struggle. She leaned in, hips circling again—slower this time, more pressure. She knew the effect it had. She wanted the effect. Her breath spilled over my ear as she whispered something low and sultry.
"Anata wa subete o motte imashita."
Then, softer, a kiss against the side of my neck.
"Shikashi, anata wa sore o torimasendeshita."
The words like an sudden storm which I didn't have the time to process. I didn't need to. I felt the meaning, and it felt like a challenge to my pride.
Across the room, Nami's voice rang out—sharp, cutting, cold.
"Carina."
One word. But it was enough to pause everything.
The temperature in the room shifted. Carina's body stilled for a moment, then resumed her lazy teasing with less urgency. She didn't back away. She just adjusted.
Adapted.
Her smirk didn't fade.
I didn't have time to respond or react. I didn't have a chance to process the weight of the moment, because my body moved before my brain could argue.
I wrapped my arms around Carina. Pulled her in tighter. My fingers sank into her thighs, into soft, smooth flesh that gave under my grip. Her breathing hitched—just a fraction—but enough to register.
My mouth hovered beside her ear. Close. Close enough for her to feel the heat of every word. My warm breath trickling down her ears and neck. She shivered a little.
"Goooood…"
Then I nibbled.
Gentle. Playful.
Dangerous.
"…girl."
She trembled. Subtle. But I felt it. Her arms softened. Her breath caught. Her smirk faltered into something quieter—something far more honest.
The reaction she tried to hide was the one I noticed most.
Behind her, I felt another shift in the room. Nami had gone quiet. Watching. Measuring. Even she had trembled a bit from the phrase.
My focus was locked on Carina, on the tension between us, on the fire burning hotter by the second.
No more words were spoken.
None were needed.
Everything between us—every breath, every shiver, every pause—spoke louder than language ever could.
I didn't know what this was.
But I knew one thing for sure. That phrase whether in English or Japanese was undisputed.