After Nojiko swallowed the Slip-Slip Fruit, her body reacted exactly like most Devil Fruit eaters do at first — the power surged out of control for a moment, then settled in. The Slip-Slip ability instantly took effect.
The blanket slipped off her shoulders as if pushed by an invisible hand; the grime on her skin slid cleanly away, droplets running down and falling free. "With the Slip-Slip Fruit, you'll never have to bathe again," Adrian commented, amused. Anything stuck to her would simply glide off — stains, dust, filth — gone. In short, she'd effectively never have to worry about dirt.
Under Adrian's eyes, Nojiko's skin visibly brightened right then and there. Her form seemed to tune itself — subtle curves sharpened, posture improved — and her face took on changes that were hard to describe without sounding absurd. It was like switching on a beautifying filter and then doing a light retouch in real life.
Adrian's appetite stirred. Damn. That was tempting. Who could resist? "Nojiko." He called, and she looked up. He came closer. The room hummed with heat and a mischievous intimacy.
The fight that had been going on earlier only finally wound down after two hours. If Adrian hadn't been considerate of Nojiko's exhaustion, he'd have happily kept going for longer. And after the Slip-Slip Fruit, Nojiko was… supremely smooth.
That afternoon they finally emerged. Adrian ordered food for the others — of course, the cook for the meal was Little Master. Ever since Little Master's cooking arrived on their plates, everyone's standards had climbed. Once you'd eaten one of his dishes, other food tasted like cardboard in comparison. Little Master had become untouchable on the ship; Grimjow and Madara had openly declared that anyone who harmed the cook's hair would have their entire ancestral tomb dug up. That was how beloved the little chef had become.
When Nojiko stepped out, Nami's worry melted into something sharper — envy. She'd been anxious while her sister stayed in Adrian's room for so long, but now that Nojiko had come out, Nami felt oddly unsettled. Nojiko's transformation stunned her.
"N-no way… Did you get cosmetic surgery overnight?" Nami blurted, eyes wide. Nojiko's skin, which had been lightly tanned, now looked soft and fair. Her figure had smoothed into a near-perfect silhouette. If before Nojiko had scored an 85 on looks, now she was practically a 95. It was absurdly dramatic — and Nami, a woman who'd spent years scraping together a fortune at sea, felt a pang of jealous disbelief.
"No nonsense — my new look came from my brother-in-law's gift," Nojiko replied, patting Nami's reaching hand away when she tried to touch the change.
Nami laughed, incredulous. "You changed your tune fast." One night with Adrian and she already called him brother-in-law — Nami rolled her eyes.
"What did he give you that did this?" she demanded. Women were women; any miracle that upgraded beauty would make Nami salivate.
Nojiko didn't hide it. "A Devil Fruit. He gave me a Paramecia — the Slip-Slip Fruit. It has beautifying effects." She explained plainly.
"A whole billion beli Devil Fruit?!" Nami's pupils dilated to coin-sized circles. A billion — that was the kind of money she'd scraped together only after long, bloody years. If that fruit made a person gorgeous, being handed one was an impossibly lavish gift. Nami's jealousy burned bright; she half-wanted to claw Nojiko's new face off and trade places.
Soon Little Master arrived with the meal. Adrian and Nojiko ate like kings; Little Master's cooking was, as ever, heavenly — it was literally as if the food had been sprinkled with starlight. The crew's praise for the cook was loud and sincere.
In the following days Nojiko took to staying in Adrian's room at night. Once, Nami and Nojiko had shared the same quarters, but now Nami found herself alone. Adrian, meanwhile, lingered over a dish with a contemplative expression — savoring it like it was something called "The Gentlefold," and for a while he let himself get lost in the taste.
Then news came: Louchie (Ruckie?) informed Adrian that the World Economic Newspress's chief, Morgans, had finally been contacted. Adrian tore himself away from the afterglow of the meal and went to deal with it.
—
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