The Going Merry — Somewhere on the Open Sea Almost One Day Since Leaving Baratie
The ocean was calm.
Too calm.
It stretched endlessly in every direction — not stormy, not threatening… just quiet. Soft waves carried the Merry along as if nothing in the world had gone wrong.
But something had.
Not on the sea.
Inside one bird's chest.
Fuwako lay stretched across the very front of the ship, eyes fixed ahead. Their feathers were ruffled, puffed at the edges. Their tail wrapped tightly around their hind limbs — not in comfort.
In restraint.
From instinct.
Their heartbeat thumped in some strange rhythm the sea couldn't match. They listened, searching for familiarity — the sound of Luffy yelling about food. The clanking of Zoro's weights. Usopp's occasional screaming.
But there was only wind.
Only water.
Only silence.
"Pyu…" A faint sound. Almost like a sigh.
—This sea feels strange without them.
The sky offered no answer. The wind rolled over their feathers, gentle but powerless to soothe what churned inside.
Normally, when the Merry moved, Fuwako felt excitement. Energy. Something inside them naturally responded to motion — sails billowing, the creak of the mast, the way the sea rolled and shifted beneath the ship.
But today, without Luffy at the helm pretending like he knew what he was doing… it felt hollow.
Nami tried to steer the ship as if nothing was wrong.
She didn't yell at Fuwako for being in the way. She didn't scold them. She didn't joke.
She didn't even look at them.
That, more than anything, bothered the bird.
Fuwako stared at her from behind the mast. Staring. Watching. Studying. Tilting their head inch by inch, waiting for anything — acknowledgment, irritation, comfort, anger — something.
She showed them none.
Only a tension in her jaw and a stiff grip on the wheel. Like the act of steering alone kept her from falling apart.
The sun moved slowly across the sky as time dragged itself onward. Hours. Maybe more. Fuwako couldn't tell. Their instincts told them it had been too long since hearing Luffy laugh… far too long since Zoro's snoring or Usopp's panicking threatened to break the peace.
The silence of the ship felt heavier than battle.
No poor singing.
No laughter.
No shouting.
Just waves.
Just wind.
Just one girl and one creature…
…and the growing weight of something unspoken.
Restlessness.
Afternoon heat washed fully over the Merry. The air stuck to Fuwako's feathers like syrup. They shuffled irritably from one spot to another — mast to bow, railing to deck, before finally settling down next to a barrel with a huff.
"Pyu…"
—Still moving forward…
Their eyes flicked back to the horizon behind them.
They knew Baratie was now far beyond sight. Zoro and Usopp were somewhere behind that vanished line… and if Nami hadn't sailed away, Luffy would have chased after them.
He would have.
He always would have.
Yet now he wasn't here.
Why wasn't he here?
Why did he let her leave?
Their feathers puffed again uncontrollably. Agitation. Restlessness. Sadness.
But above all — confusion.
How could something be true if the captain didn't chase after it?
…unless the captain was hurt.
The thought struck them like lightning. Fuwako froze, beak slightly parted.
Was Luffy… hurt? Were Zoro and Usopp… dead?
Had they run from something terrible?
Had Nami been… protecting them?
A new feeling rose in their chest: not just confusion. Not just worry.
Doubt.
What had really happened inside Baratie after they'd been left outside?
Fuwako's ears twitched.
Their instincts — normally so certain — now tangled like seaweed around drifting debris.
Which instinct was correct?
Stay with Nami?
Or fly back to them?
Which was loyalty?
Which was betrayal?
Were they being stolen — or trusted?
Eventually, Fuwako stood and walked up behind Nami once more. Their claws made deliberate clicking noises across the wood. Their feathered head slowly appeared at her side as they stared up at her without blinking.
Nami didn't look down.
Not yet.
But her voice finally broke the silence.
"…You've been staring at me for hours."
Fuwako blinked. Their wings twitched.
"Pyu."
—Yes.
She sighed.
Her voice was steady… but only just.
"Asking me a question?"
Fuwako held her gaze, unwavering.
"Pyu…"
—Why?
She closed her eyes for a brief moment before her voice returned, softer. Too soft.
"To answer that," she whispered, "I'd need a lot more time than a day."
Fuwako tilted their head.
"Pyu?"
—Why time?
"One day isn't enough for explanations," Nami said, gripping the wheel just a little tighter. "Sometimes all you can do… is just sail forward until the answer shows up."
The wind quieted. The waves hushed as if listening.
Fuwako stayed by her side.
Not satisfied.
But present.
Nami noticed. Slowly — like someone who'd forgotten how — she let her hand fall from the wheel and rest gently on the bird's head.
Fuwako blinked slowly.
"…Thanks for staying calm," she whispered.
And finally…
They understood her scent.
It wasn't betrayal. Or guilt. Or victory.
It was fear.
And many things fear could not hide.
Grief.
Responsibility.
Regret.
—and something that felt very close to love.
Nightfall
At sunset, the sky blazed in gold and crimson. Fuwako watched from the very front of the Merry as the horizon shifted like a burning tapestry. The clouds lit like dying embers. The air felt softer. Cooler.
Lonelier.
Nami lit a small lantern near the helm.
She did not cry.
But she did not smile, either.
Fuwako eventually moved to her side. Quiet. Eyes tilted upward. Like they had done may times before.
Not demanding answers anymore.
Just…asking a silent question.
Are we still family?
Their warm feathers brushed against her leg softly. Fuwako lays their head silently against her leg, just like they had done many times. Nami hesitated — then gently let her hand rest between the growing feathers at Fuwako's neck.
"…We'll be there by midday tomorrow."
The bird paused.
"Pyu?"
—Where?
She stared forward. Past the sea. Past the midnight horizon.
"…home."
But Fuwako heard something else.
Not joy.
Not safety.
Something far colder.
A battlefield.
The waves continued to carry them forward.
Toward Cocoyashi Village.
Toward fate.
Toward pain.
Toward everything Nami hoped she could protect…
…even if it meant leaving everything else behind.
TO BE CONTINUED…