Zoro wiped sweat from his brow as he followed the faint trail of footprints zigzagging up the sun-baked beach. The prints were small and urgent. Now and then, a strange pattern in the sand revealed a sudden scuffle. Here and there, glimmers of lost treasure caught his eye: a single coin, a silken ribbon, even a battered seashell earring he recognized from the Sunny.
He barely had time to feel his familiar annoyance before the rustle of palm fronds broke into a shriek.
"Give it back, you idiotic monkey! That map is worth ten times your little coconut stash!"
The voice was more familiar than the chaos: sharp, impatient, and both lovely and dangerous to confront. Zoro pushed through the brush and emerged into a half-lit clearing. There stood Nami—her orange hair wild and her clothes patched with stubborn pride—locked in combat with three red monkeys. Each wore a silly straw hat made from broken palm leaves. One clutched a scrap of the map in its nimble hands.
"Nami?" Zoro called, relief barely hiding his amusement.
She turned her head, eyes widening in shock and embarrassment. "Zoro?! You survived—and you're late!"
Before he could reply, two monkeys noticed him, let out frantic squeals, and scampered into the trees. The third monkey—the ringleader, still holding the map—hesitated, sizing up the new threat.
Zoro stepped forward, his swords clinking at his side. "Hand it over, furball, unless you want to see how sharp a real blade is."
The monkey chattered defiantly, but Nami, already understanding the moment, darted low and grabbed a coconut from the ground. "You handle swords," she hissed, "I handle negotiations."
With a smooth motion, she tossed the coconut—a perfect curve that landed inches from the monkey's feet. Caught between Zoro's intimidating presence and Nami's precise aim, the monkey reluctantly dropped the map and disappeared into the underbrush, its makeshift hat askew.
Nami picked up the soggy parchment, smoothing it with care usually reserved for valuables or her best shoes. "What would you do without me, huh?" she teased, glancing sideways at Zoro.
He shrugged, but a rare glint of gratitude shone in his eyes. "Probably get lost. Again."
She rolled her eyes, then caught herself staring at his swords, her concern breaking through her practiced mask for a moment. "Are you alright? Any injuries?"
"Just a headache," Zoro said, rubbing his temple. "See anyone else?"
"Not yet. I woke up tangled in seaweed, halfway down the cove." Nami's voice softened, revealing her vulnerability. "It was strange... the locals stared at us like we were from another world. I lost track of Robin and the others."
Zoro nodded, scanning the edge of the clearing. The island shimmered with summer heat, oddly still after the chaos of the night before.
"We should stick together," he finally said.
"For now," Nami agreed, a small smile showing her relief. "And if you even think about getting us lost again—"
He interrupted, "I don't get lost. The world moves."
She snorted, the sound a mix of laughter and challenge. With the map tucked under her arm, she led him back toward the village archway, determination evident in her every step.
As they walked, the laughter of island children echoed in the distance, and the scent of tropical fruit wafted on the breeze. But beyond the bright colors and playful voices, Zoro sensed that the adventure—and the trouble—had just begun.
*To be continued in Chapter 3: Hot Spring Trap!…*