Night fell softly over the sea, rain whispering against the windows like a secret no one dared to tell.
Rody carried the drunken Nami in his arms, her head resting against his chest. Her eyes were half closed, breath warm and shallow. A soft blush bloomed across her cheeks, her heart racing wildly like a startled deer.
He closed the door behind them, the quiet click of the latch swallowed by the sound of rain. Without a word, he lowered his head and kissed her lips—warm, soft, trembling.
"Mmh…"
Their tongues brushed. Nami shivered, her resistance melting away like sugar in the rain.
Rody kissed her deeper, tasting her breath, the faint trace of wine on her lips. His hands traced her waist, feeling the smooth, delicate curve of her body. The faint scent of oranges lingered in the air, dizzying and sweet.
In one swift motion, he bent forward, pressing her gently onto the bed, and captured her lips again.
Nami gasped, pushing lightly against his chest, her breathing unsteady. "Rody… you really do love me, right?" Her voice trembled, soft and vulnerable.
"Of course. You're mine," he murmured.
Hearing that, Nami wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close once more. Their lips met again, and the world beyond the rain vanished.
…
The storm whispered outside, veiling the ship in mist.
Later, Rody lay on the bed, holding Nami close. Her shoulders were warm and round beneath his arm, her breath steady against his chest. He closed his eyes, and a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
"Congratulations, Host. Achievement Unlocked: First Blood."
[Reward: Random Treasure Chest]
Rody frowned. This damn system again? He still hadn't figured out what the "Slaughter Value" even did, and now it was throwing random achievements at him. First blood? What kind of achievement is that supposed to be?
The holographic treasure chest shimmered before him—elegant and ancient, glowing with mysterious light. Intricate carvings covered its surface, each line vivid as if alive.
He tapped it open.
A burst of colored light flashed—then a card appeared, showing a motorcycle. Underneath, small words read: "A miraculous motorbike."
Rody squinted. Why does this thing look so familiar?
Before he could think further, Nami's soft voice came from his arms. "Rody… stop it, I can't anymore…"
He blinked, realizing his hand had wandered up from her shoulder to a much softer, rounder place.
Nami rested her head against his chest, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. "Please… not tonight. Tomorrow, okay?"
He smiled faintly. Even Reverse Cursed Technique couldn't heal that kind of fatigue. He kissed her orange hair gently and pulled the blanket over them both.
"Alright. Sleep," he whispered.
…
Morning sunlight poured through the window, golden and warm. Rody and Nami stirred, their eyes meeting in lazy smiles.
Nami leaned over, kissed him, and propped herself up. "Wake up, my captain."
The blanket slid down, revealing her graceful figure bathed in sunlight. Rody's heartbeat quickened again. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom, where laughter and water mingled into a quiet melody.
By the time they stepped onto the deck, the day had brightened, the sea calm and blue.
"Lord Rody, Lady Nami," Mike greeted respectfully as he scrubbed the deck, still damp from last night's rain. "Miss Carmen and her apprentices are preparing breakfast. Fifteen minutes, perhaps."
Rody waved him off with a nod. "Good." He turned toward the dining hall, while Nami wandered toward her beloved orange trees.
Before Rody even entered, a familiar, exaggerated laugh reached his ears.
Inside, Carmen was dancing again—twirling between tables as she cooked, fan in hand.
Rody pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Leo, her long-faced apprentice. "What's wrong with her now?"
Leo answered earnestly, "Lord Rody, Master says a chef must keep their passion burning to create delicious food!"
Rody sighed. These three were a spectacle, but at least they were loyal. Leo and Jose had both learned about his fifty-million Berries bounty the previous night—yet they'd chosen to stay with Carmen anyway. Courageous… if not bright.
He didn't dislike them for it. Their hearts were in the right place, even if their faces were, well, a bit artistic.
The sun rose high, the wind gentle, waves glinting like glass.
After a lavish breakfast, Rody stretched out on a lounge chair, sipping chilled fruit juice. The air smelled of salt and citrus.
He opened his system again and selected the card from last night's reward.
A flash of white light burst on the empty deck—and a sleek blue-and-white motorcycle appeared before him.
"Whoa! Rody, where did you get this? It's so cool!" Nami exclaimed, running over.
Leo and Jose followed, eyes wide. "Lord Rody, that's incredible!"
Before Rody could answer, a sharp click echoed. The motorcycle's front split from its back, both sides unfolding with mechanical precision. Two metal arms extended outward, and a yellow robotic head rose from the handlebar.
A deep, metallic voice boomed:
"Second-in-command of the City of Time! The bravest warrior of the Motor Clan—Windfire Wheel, reporting for duty!"
"Th-the motorcycle… it talked!" Nami gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.
"It really did! That's not normal—it must be some kind of monster!" Leo yelped.
"Y-you're right! No ordinary machine can turn into a person and speak! We're doomed—it's gonna eat us!"
"Don't panic!" Jose said quickly, clutching Rody's leg. "Lord Rody has a fifty-million bounty—he's the strongest man in the East Blue!"
Both of them crouched behind Rody, clinging to his legs like terrified children.
"Hey, you motorcycle monster!" Leo shouted, trying to sound brave. "You're talking to the East Blue's strongest man, Lord Rody! Who are you? Speak your name!"
Rody looked down at the two human ornaments attached to his legs and sighed.
Mike approached cautiously, his old eyes wide. "Lord Rody… do you know what this creature is?"
Mike had served the Bruce family for decades. He'd seen plenty of strange things, but never anything like this—a talking motorbike.
Rody scratched his head. "Yeah… something like that. I summoned him. Just treat him as one of us."
He wasn't sure how else to explain it. A motorbike that ate a Devil Fruit? That'd be too ridiculous—even for this crew.
The sea breeze blew softly, the sound of laughter and waves blending as the ship sailed forward—with a talking motorcycle now among its crew.