One Piece: Chopping Ace Back to Foosha Village at the Start

Vivian had been living with her grandfather since she was fifteen.

That year, her father was killed in the city run over by a noble's carriage. The noble never faced consequences, of course, and all that was left behind was a grieving girl and her aging grandfather.

Fortunately, the old man had a skill: making ramen. It was that humble craft that allowed the two of them to survive until now.

But the Sin Tax had increased too quickly and too steeply. It had drained every last bit of the old man's savings. And so, in the end, they were reduced to slavery.

Inside the cell, Wayne listened quietly as Vivian spoke. The prison was dark and oppressive. The only light came from a tiny window high on the wall, maybe fifteen centimeters across. Water dripped from somewhere in the darkness, the steady rhythm making the place feel even more suffocating.

"What a fine mess you've made, Slayve."

Wayne narrowed his eyes, a faint smile curling his lips not a kind smile, but one laced with chilling intent. Those who knew Wayne well would recognize that look. It meant he was truly angry.

Time passed slowly. Wayne breathed through the stink of the prison, counting the hours in his mind.

It had been nearly three hours since he was locked up. In that time, he'd gathered a rough understanding of the inner workings of this so-called Nation of Slavery.

Which meant it was time to make his move.

He coated his hands in Armament Haki, ready to shatter the chains binding both him and Vivian.

But just as he was about to act, his Observation Haki sensed movement someone was approaching.

Clang!

The prison door creaked open. A narrow beam of light spilled into the room, illuminating the darkness.

A group of seven or eight men in black suits stepped inside. One of them, clearly the leader, gave an order without hesitation.

"Take the girl."

Then, catching a glimpse of Wayne's face, he added, "Take the man too. He'll fetch a good price."

Wayne raised an eyebrow. So, this was it they were going to auction him off.

Perfect. This was his best shot at finding Slayve.

He turned to Vivian, who was trembling beside him.

"Don't be scared," he said softly. "We'll go together."

One of the suited men scoffed.

"Sure, if you're lucky enough to be bought by the same master. Don't count on it."

They led Wayne and Vivian through a long corridor, making their way toward the surface auction hall.

Wayne memorized every turn and hallway. He was already planning the punishment he'd deal out to these monsters.

About ten minutes later, they reached the auction venue.

As soon as they entered, Wayne and Vivian were each branded with numbers Wayne was 71, Vivian 72.

In the center of the auction stage, a thin man wearing sunglasses stood enthusiastically introducing the next "item."

"Up next, Lot Number 63: a powerful Fishman!"

"Now, for those of you unfamiliar, Fishmen are not the same as Merfolk. Their upper body is that of a fish, and their lower body is human. These beings are incredibly strong. Even an average adult Fishman has ten times the strength of a human! The elites among them are even more powerful!"

"But don't worry there's no risk of rebellion. Every slave comes with a custom-made control collar!"

The auctioneer gestured to the metal band around the Fishman's neck.

"If they resist... this happens."

He pressed a button. Instantly, electricity crackled across the Fishman's body. The creature screamed in agony, eyes rolling back as his muscles convulsed violently.

The audience erupted in wild cheers. The nobles were clearly thrilled by the display of suffering.

Seeing the excitement in the crowd, the auctioneer grinned.

"Starting price: 8 million Berries! Bids must increase by no less than 100,000 Berries per raise!"

Almost immediately, shouts came from the stands.

"8.1 million!"

"8.2 million!"

"8.5 million!"

In the end, the Fishman sold for a staggering 20 million Berries.

Wayne couldn't help but marvel at how deep these nobles' pockets were. That price nearly matched Arlong's bounty back in the East Blue.

And all of it their obscene wealth was built on the backs of people like Vivian.

One after another, the "products" were paraded and sold. Wayne even spotted his own katana, Yukizoe, tossed into a corner like another worthless item up for sale.

Then came their turn.

Wayne and Vivian were led up onto the platform.

The auctioneer paused when he saw Wayne not because he recognized him, but because Wayne's towering frame made him look like a serious threat. Just in case, the man ordered an electrified collar to be fastened around Wayne's neck.

Wayne didn't resist.

After all, he was lightning. There was nothing this collar could do to him.

And Slayve the man he had come to find hadn't shown up yet.

"Next up, we have Lot 71 and 72," the auctioneer declared with flair.

"Now, why are we selling them as a pair? Because they're lovers!"

"Just imagine purchasing a couple, using them as you please... tormenting one while the other watches helplessly. The possibilities are endless..."

He didn't need to say more. The nobles in the stands erupted in eager cheers.

"Starting bid: 8 million Berries!"

But this time, there was hesitation. No immediate response.

The auctioneer realized the problem and pointed to Wayne's face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, look carefully. Handsome slaves like this don't come around often. Surely, someone here finds him appealing?"

Several nobles leaned forward to get a better look.

"Oh my! I'll pay 8.5 million! I want him as my pet!" one wealthy woman shrieked.

"8.7 million!"

"9 million!"

"Wait doesn't he look just like that famous Warlord, Wayne?"

"He does! Uncanny! I bid 15 million Berries!"

"20 million!"

Wayne listened as the crowd debated over whether he was the real thing or not, lips curling into a bemused smile.

"Fools," he muttered. "No wonder this country is rotting."

Suddenly, the auction was interrupted.

A group of bodyguards in black suits swept into the room.

At their center stood the king of the Nation of Slavery Slayve.

He'd come in person, having heard that a slave resembling Wayne had appeared in the auction.

Wayne looked up, his eyes cold and sharp. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

Finally, he thought. You're here, Slayve.

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