They were like a fine and delicate work of art, the sort of thing a pirate would never be able to wear. When she tried them on, the narrow heels perfectly supported her balance. It felt wonderful.
With this flashy new look on her feet, she felt the need to strut. Nami took a stroll on the deck of her ship. The first to notice—at the speed of sound—was the cook, who emptied his entire vocabulary praising her every quality. The archaeologist told her that they suited her, the ship’s doctor excitedly said they were as sparkly as stars, and the shipwright was impressed with the quality of the satin and crystal beads.
But not every member of the rough-and-tumble Straw Hat Crew recognized the quality of her new shoes. The sniper was aghast when he found out how much they cost, and the musician seemed to be examining the contours of her leg muscles rather than the shoes themselves. As for the captain, he was too distracted by some strange birds flying overhead and the possibility that he could be having those birds for lunch to even notice that Nami had new shoes on.
Really, though, it didn’t matter what her crewmates thought. She’d bought the shoes because she wanted to wear them.
“What’s with the fancy shoes? You can’t run in those. And when are you gonna wear them?” the swordsman had teased.
Nami had folded her arms smugly and informed the rube, “You just don’t get it. Lebno Listchaque makes high heels you can run in.”
Indeed, that was what she’d heard about Lebnos. And yet, not even ten minutes after putting them on, her ankles were screaming with pain! Well, Nami wasn’t the kind of person who’d give up and walk away after paying two hundred thousand berries for a defective product, no sir. After getting a little turned around on the island, she’d marched right back to the store to demand satisfaction.
“‘Heels you can run in’ was our old sales pitch,” Miucha explained, sticking to the playbook. She wasn’t going to budge. “When Lebno was still just a little shoe shop at the edge of town, we made heels you could run in. Each pair was carefully crafted by hand. But now that the company is so much bigger, we’d never keep up with production if we did it the old way. We have to hit our targets, even if it means a decline in comfort.”
“Are you sure this is a good way to do that, though? The stitching is well-done, and the satin is very fine—clearly, you’re spending time on the parts others can see. But you put no effort into all the other parts.”
“That’s the direction our head designer has decided upon,” Miucha said, shrugging. “Crystal beads on blue satin is a big trend this year. Trends pass quickly, so there’s no point taking our time to make a shoe that no one’s even going to want to wear next year. People will put up with discomfort in exchange for having the latest style.”
It seemed preposterous. If all the shoes were the same quality, then there was no point in returning them. Nami groaned inwardly. She regretted showing off the shoes to the crew. Once they found out she had tried to take the shoes back, they’d just tease her more. She felt infuriated just imagining Zolo’s face, mocking her and asking what had happened to those heels she could run in. Nami didn’t have time for this song and dance with a poker-faced salesclerk.
“All right, fine. I won’t exchange them. Just take them back.”
“We don’t accept returns,” the clerk replied.
“What?!” If Nami’s brow had furrowed slightly when Miucha said the shoes weren’t defective, that was nothing compared to the look on her face now.
“The receipt didn’t say anything about not taking returns!”
“It doesn’t, but that is the policy,” said Miucha. “All sales are final, whether you wear the shoes or not.”
“What are you talking about?” Nami said. “I’m not paying for shoes I can’t wear. You’re going to give me my money back!”
Miucha was impassive. “Look, I’m sorry, but this is how we do business. If you’re not going to wear them, why not give them to a friend?”
“I don’t have any friends who want shoes you can’t run in!”
“Is something the matter?” a man’s voice interrupted, and Miucha promptly straightened up. A tall man in a suit had come through the workshop door. His pressed shirt was absolutely spotless, but the gray undershirt beneath it was a bit soiled around the collar.
“I’m sorry about the noise, Lebno,” Miucha said to him. “She’s determined to get a return.”
“Lebno? So you’re Lebno Listchaque?” Nami said, turning on the man in fury. “Perfect timing. I want to return these pumps! They’re so painful I can barely stand to wear them for more than a minute.”
He didn’t spare a glance at the shoes thrust in front of his face. Instead, he gave her a full-body examination and smirked. “I’m not surprised. These are terrible shoes that happen to look good. But you’re the first to actually come and complain that they’re defective. Most just say, ‘Well, they’re Lebno Listchaques,’ and put up with the pain, or give up and blame themselves for not having strong enough legs.”
Yikes. It was such a stunning admission that Nami could only grimace, a muscle in her cheek twitching. Her anger was replaced with shock—to think that the renowned Lebno Listchaque was such a sleazeball!
“But I suppose you’ll do,” he said, peering at her face. Nami took a creeped-out step backward.
“Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“It means that we’ll build you a new pair from scratch,” he said. Miucha’s head snapped around to stare at him. “But only if you’ll be my model.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Lebno didn’t intend to hire Nami as an employee; he just wanted her to walk the runway at a fashion show that night. In exchange for two or three hours of her time, he offered her a pair of proper shoes made to order, and any other Lebno shoes in the shop she cared to take with her. For such an impromptu deal, it was really quite cushy.
“But why me?”
“Because you look good. You have a nice figure, and that gorgeous hair,” Lebno said, reaching out to touch it just as Nami dodged away and examined the interior of the shop.
There were dazzling flower-print mules and a stunning, sensuous pair of six-inch heels. There were beige and cork pumps with a fringe, clearly designed to be reminiscent of the stately Alabasta Kingdom. Lebno was a horrible man, but his designs were the real deal. On the display floor, each set of shoes had a distinct aesthetic that seemed to tell a unique story. Each pair would be priced at two hundred thousand berries at a minimum. And she could take as many as she wanted. What a steal!
I can’t take them all onto the ship with me, she thought, but I can sell them off before we set sail!
So Nami changed her tune at once and agreed to model the shoes. Miucha took her to the fitting room to prepare for the show.
“Let’s measure your feet, first. That is the most important step when creating shoes, after all,” Miucha said.
She knelt next to Nami and took out her measuring tape. At first she was smug and self-assured, but soon recoiled in shock. Nami looked down and noticed that the nail on her right big toe sported a gruesome crack.
“Oh, I was running and stubbed my toe,” she explained awkwardly.
Miucha’s expression grew even more alarmed. “You stubbed it so hard that this happened?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Don’t worry, I disinfected it,” said Nami, breezily. That sort of thing happened all the time when you were a member of a pirate crew. The bruises, cuts, and scrapes were never-ending.
“Such a shame, when you have such nice legs,” Miucha muttered, placing her hand on Nami’s ankle. She smoothed the measuring tape over the top of her foot, then measured the sides, the width, and the length of each toe.
Once the measurements were done, Miucha placed a pattern paper under Nami’s foot to see how her weight was distributed, then traced the outline with a pen to complete the task.
Nami was reminded of when she was a child, and Belle-mère had taken her measurements. The memory of her mother felt like a warm blanket—the way she would sit and work on her projects while chatting with Nami and Nojiko. Belle-mère’s haute couture clothing was a unique luxury, but as a child Nami didn’t understand that, and used to complain about how much of her mother’s attention it took.
“What kind of shoes would you like to model at the show, Nami?” Miucha asked, out of the blue. “I’ll take any requests.”
“Good question,” Nami replied slowly, thinking it over. “How about…a lion and sunflower motif?”
“Huh?” Miucha hesitated.
“With buckles that are a combination of a sunflower and a lion’s face. You know how the petals of a sunflower kind of look like a lion’s mane? And make the lion angry. Its mouth should be open so wide, it looks like its jaw is dislocated.”
“O…kay…” Miucha said, clearly taken by surprise.
“Just a thought,” Nami said, with a little grin. “But as long as I can walk in them without hurting, I’ll take anything.”