Nami gently stroked Vivi's cheek. Under the pure moonlight, the blue-haired girl's skin, smooth as white jade, glowed with a soft radiance that was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Vivi…" The navigator's gaze was complicated, having learned the full story from Sherlock.
"She's an extraordinary princess," Sherlock said comfortingly while stirring the steaming vegetable porridge in his hand. "Don't blame yourself too much. Your illness wasn't something you could control."
Nami sighed at his words and glanced at the mountain of treasure piled around her. She flashed Sherlock a cheeky grin.
"You brought out all this treasure just so I could rest properly? Well, I've had a good sleep now, so… can I keep it all?"
Seeing the beri signs flashing in Nami's eyes, Sherlock gave a look that said of course. He reached out, patted her smooth forehead, and smiled.
"Looks like your fever's pretty bad. You're starting to talk nonsense."
Fat meat at her lips—how could she not take a bite? Nami immediately put on a fierce glare at the sorcerer, as if daring him to refuse or face her wrath.
Well, her glare had zero killing power.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, thinking he couldn't encourage this greedy navigator's arrogance, and glared right back without flinching.
Their eyes locked, gazes clashing. The air seemed to ring with the faint clang of swords striking.
A long moment passed.
"Tch, stingy." Nami was the first to crack. She turned her head awkwardly and muttered, "Just you wait. One day, I'll steal every beri you have."
"Yeah, yeah. You're the thief who specializes in robbing pirates—even your own crewmates' money isn't safe from the money-grubbing navigator."
Sherlock spoke with a hint of helplessness, then handed over the porridge. "Eat something. Sanji made this specially for you—sick-person food."
"No! I'm not hungry."
Depressed by the mountain of treasure she could only look at, Nami flopped back onto her pillow and reflexively said, "Unless… you feed me."
The moment the words left her mouth, Nami regretted them. Even for a bold girl like her, that request felt far too intimate.
After all, her relationship with Sherlock hadn't reached that level yet.
(Aaaah, what am I saying? I must be fever-addled…)
Nami squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, turning away, too shy to look at the bespectacled man beside her.
(Is she so weak she can't feed herself?)
Sherlock pushed up his glasses, apparently finding nothing odd about Nami's request.
Hoo hoo~ The sound of him blowing on the porridge.
"Open your mouth." His voice was as calm as ever.
"Huh?"
The navigator twisted her head in surprise and saw Sherlock had sat on the edge of the bed, obediently holding a small spoonful of porridge to her lips. He really intended to feed her.
(You actually feed me when I say it?!)
Nami's eyes widened. Staring into his calm, deep black eyes, she was at a loss for words.
"Ah~~~~" Sherlock opened his own mouth, like coaxing a stubborn child.
Nami blinked, then shyly parted her lips. Sherlock smoothly slipped the spoon in. The spoon—not controlled by her—brushed her soft, pink tongue, sending a strange sensation through her. Her already fever-flushed cheeks burned even redder.
"Is it good?"
The orange-haired girl nodded awkwardly, swallowing the food. Her fever-dazed tongue couldn't taste much, but a sweet flavor spread through her, utterly captivating.
"Good." Sherlock smiled faintly. "Sanji's love-filled cooking is pretty great, after all."
In the dimly lit room, the man fed silently, the woman ate silently, their rhythm perfectly in sync, as if they'd practiced it countless times.
One bite, two bites…
Soon, the bowl of vegetable porridge was empty.
"Go to sleep. Tomorrow we're taking you to a doctor." Sherlock gathered the bowl, stood, and headed for the door.
"Th… thank you…" Her voice was mosquito-soft.
Nami lay in bed, her big, watery eyes watching the sorcerer's retreating back. The corners of her mouth curved into a lovely smile.
If Sanji knew the sick-person meal he'd lovingly prepared for Nami had been used by Sherlock for a feeding play, who knows what that perverted chef would think.
Little Garden welcomed another wave of visitors. Unlike the previous pirates and assassins, these new guests were Marines.
With their weapons broken, Dorry and Brogy could only fight hand-to-hand, yet the battle between these two war-loving giants still shook heaven and earth.
"A fight like this has lasted 100 years. Hina's shocked." Black Cage Hina stood atop a massive boulder, staring at the dueling giants in a daze.
A breeze blew past, fluttering Hina's cherry-pink hair. Her white Marine coat billowed like a cape.
Many in the Marines knew of these two great pirates with 100 million beri bounties from a century ago, but everyone tacitly ignored them.
First, the Marines didn't want to disturb this sacred duel. Second, it was out of respect for the giant Marines—most of the Vice Admirals at HQ knew these two "seniors" of the giant race.
Most importantly, nearly every Marine who'd witnessed Dorry and Brogy's fight agreed: these evenly matched warriors would never settle a victor in their lifetimes.
"Colonel Hina." A Marine approached from behind, swallowed hard at the distant giants' clash, then loudly reported to his superior.
"The Hungry Wolf Pirates' Vice Captain, Gale Swordsman Yasuo, and some small fry have been captured. Blood Wolf Haska is missing, but…"
The Marine paused, his expression shifting. "On the other side of the island, we found a highly suspicious area. A fierce battle clearly took place—nearly every tree was destroyed, the ground riddled with massive bomb craters. From the traces, we deduce Haska fought someone, and…"
"He's dead, right?" Hina exhaled a smoke ring. Though phrased as a question, her tone was certain.
The Marine said nothing, only nodded silently.
Another Marine came running from afar, clutching a file folder, panic on his face.
"Colonel Hina!" He saluted crisply, then handed over the folder.
"We found this on the Hungry Wolf Pirates' flagship!"
"Oh?" Black Cage Hina flicked away her finished cigarette, took the folder with a puzzled look, opened it, and skimmed the contents. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
"This… this is… Crocodile actually…" Hina took a deep breath, forcing calm, but the file's information was shocking.
(Whether this intel is real or fake, any connection to those people demands strict investigation.)
(And Sand Crocodile's recent actions have been odd.)
(Smoker's headed to Alabasta. I need to warn him to be careful…)
Hina tucked the file back, closed her eyes briefly, then called to two subordinates in the distance:
"Fimbudi! Zango!"
"Yes, Colonel Hina!" The two old acquaintances of the Straw Hat kid responded quickly.
"Return to the ship. Send a copy of this file to that old smoker Smoker, and one to Marine Headquarters. Immediately!"
Meanwhile, the Straw Hat crew was still searching for a doctor.
The Grand Line's weather was unpredictable. Yesterday had been warm as summer; overnight, it turned to bitter winter.
In Nami's room.
Vivi gazed at the still-feverish Nami, worry etched on her face.
"Don't worry, Vivi. We'll definitely find an island with a doctor!" Sanji reassured gently.
Sherlock leaned against the wall, a gleaming flying knife slowly circling him.
Whenever he had free time, Sherlock practiced his newly developed ability—"Mirror Fusion."
Though powerful with vast potential, multiple tests revealed several issues.
First, controlling a fused mirror drained immense focus. Manipulating countless guns with Unlimited Gun System was less taxing than one fused knife.
Second, each fusion qualitatively boosted the mirror's power, but Sherlock could only fuse four times. A fifth caused collapse, shattering like glass into tiny fragments.
"Looks like the compression step is the problem…" Just as Sherlock prepared another experiment, the ship lurched violently.
"Seriously, are those guys even steering properly?!" Sanji grumbled, steadying Nami's sickbed.
After a moment, the Going Merry stabilized. A wildly arrogant laugh echoed from outside.
"Wahahahahaha! How's that? Scared by my giant submarine assault ship, the White Iron Crown?"
(Another ship? Attack?)
Sherlock exchanged glances with Vivi and Sanji, all seeing surprise in each other's eyes.
Sherlock stopped Sanji from rushing out to investigate and instructed him to protect the two ladies, then stepped onto the deck.
"…"
Sherlock glanced at the enemy pointing a gun at him, then at Luffy and Usopp similarly held hostage, and calmly pushed up his glasses.
"Yo! Sherlock! We're under attack!" the idiot captain called to the newcomer, clearly finding "being attacked" novel and exciting.
"And their ship's huge! So cool!"
"I-I-Idiot! This isn't the time to admire ship size!" Usopp, hands raised, legs shaking uncontrollably, cried, "Sherlock, save me!"
Sherlock ignored the long-nosed one's pleas and looked over.
The enemy pirate ship was at least ten times larger than the Going Merry. Its figurehead was a crowned hippo, strikingly prominent. The deck swarmed with pirates in matching uniforms.
(Strange. Their gear is too uniform. When did pirates start military-style management?)
Sherlock frowned. If not for the blatant pirate flag, he'd think these sudden attackers were a kingdom's regular army.
"Oh? Only four people? How…"
A short, fat man with iron-plated lips stood on the Going Merry's railing, sizing up Luffy and the others with disdain.
He spoke while shoving roasted meat into his mouth.
"Let me ask you—"
"Do you have an Eternal Pose for a nearby island?" Sherlock cut in first.
(This glasses guy stole my line?)
The fat man blinked, then answered honestly, "No, I was going to ask—"
"Does your ship have a doctor?" Sherlock interrupted again.
"Yeah! Yeah!" Luffy perked up at the word doctor, urgently pleading with the fat man, "My crewmate's sick! Please, let your doctor treat her!"
"Hmph! My doctor serves me alone. Who's your crewmate to me? Her life or death is none of my business!" Wapol declared, biting down on the roasted meat—and the skewer too. He crunched loudly, the crack-crack making Usopp gape.
"Wapol?" From the cabin, Vivi's expression changed at the name. She'd heard it somewhere before.
"What'd you say?" Luffy lowered his head, shadows hiding his eyes under his hat brim, body trembling slightly.
Thanks to Shanks' teachings, insulting Luffy himself was fine, but insulting his crewmates…
"Nami's not a thing!!!" Luffy snapped his head up, glaring furiously at the iron-chewing Wapol. "I'm gonna punch you into the sky, you iron-eating bastard!"
(Why does that sound so weird?) The two in the cabin glanced at the sleeping Nami, faces full of black lines.
"So you do have a doctor? Thank you so much…" Sherlock smiled, pushing up his glasses. His dark eyes glinted with chilling intent.
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