death and its shackles
original story: one piece by eichiiro oda
chapter 1: going, going, sold!
fact: slavery is the choice of the oppressors, not the oppressed.
There is such thing as a perfect temperature for a picnic: sixteen point six six seven degrees, seventeen if you're being imprecise.
Trafalgar Law did not believe in being imprecise.
That one-third of a degree meant the difference between jacket versus no jacket, hot coffee versus iced, furry snow leopard cap clean and comfortable versus furry snow leopard cap lined with sweat. (There was no option without the snow leopard cap.) All of which was to say that Law believed in calculations to the third decimal point, which drove his crew members mad because "Two is fine, Captain!" except for that one time in the Liadorian Strait when that thousandth of a point meant either successfully escaping a whirlpool or jettisoning into the bubbling pits of an active volcano, so Law maintained his practice of precision and had his crewman kiss his feet none-too-metaphorically as penance.
Today, it was a perfect sixteen point six six seven degrees outside. Trafalgar Law wore his snow leopard cap free of any sweat, kept his shirt on, and drank a hot coffee as he watched the auction occurring in Barracks Square. Beside him, Bepo happily chewed on a popsicle (yes, Bepo chewed through popsicles) and Penguin fidgeted in his seat like he'd peed in his pants and was trying to surreptitiously hide the stain.
"You didn't have to come." Law tore a piece of beef jerky off with his teeth and washed it down with a swig of coffee. It was not a good mix.
"What are you talking about?" Penguin laughed nervously. "Why wouldn't I come to an auction on a beautiful fine day like this when everyone else is off getting mimosas?"
"Because you're scared Captain will judge you," answered Bepo, whiskers twitching. His pointy teeth were stained with blue raspberry.
"It was a rhetorical question, Bepo."
"Oh. You know, I had a hunch it was rhetorical but I wasn't really sure. So I answered anyway."
"Well, you were wrong," huffed Penguin. "I only came because Captain may need back-up and I didn't think a fluffy polar bear would be enough."
"My fluffiness only gives me strength!"
Law intervened before the useless spat became something equally useless but potentially violent. "You came because you were worried I'd make a purchase?"
Penguin adjusted his hat, a tic of nerves that Law had long pointed out to him in hopes that he'd suppress it. It made beating him in poker painfully easy.
"No, nothing like that…"
Law didn't look away from the stage. "Don't worry. Even I wouldn't stoop that low."
The words rang false, and everyone involved knew it. When it came to the spectrum of human decency, Law ranked in the lower limits of normal for pirates: not as obscenely heroic as Strawhat Luffy, but not as ruthlessly destructive as Eustass Kidd. The Heart Pirates prided themselves in measured chaos, calculated investments with ensured return. Coming from North Blue, a single mistake, regardless whether it was made from pride or valor, was fatal. Law did not intend for his journey to end simply because he wanted to satisfy his own ego. Still, he was not above making a purchase if someone peculiar caught his eye, or could even be ransomed by their original family for a substantial monetary reward.
The Heart Pirates sat in the last row of the outdoors auction. Despite the town square being crowded to the point where stragglers were forced to stand on the sidelines, the pirates' pew was fairly roomy, with a healthy two-meter empty span on either side of them. Passersby cast furtive glances in their direction, some even boldly pointing at Bepo, but Law paid them no mind. He was not hiding, and if some poor fool recognized him from his bounty posters and reported him to the Marines in hopes of earning a hundred-fifty million beli, Law had no problem leaving the slaving island. They were ready to set early that morning, and it was only because Law wanted to attend the auction that the Polar Tang was still anchored in the port.
Tether Island was a relatively small slaving island in the southern most part of North Blue, one that Law wouldn't have bothered visiting if it weren't on the route to Reverse Mountain. Compared to the other auctions that Law had witnessed, Tether's sales were boring, mostly victims sold by poor parents to pay off a debt or the occasional prisoner of war. When Law glanced through the items list, he counted only one fighter of any caliber and no tradesmen. Even North Blue auctions had the occasional freak, someone who was part-giant or beast. Law could not help being disappointed. Such a low-tier slaving port would not yield any leads that he did not already have.
The auctioneer was a plump, garishly dressed man with a monocle and impressive mustache. He wiped away the sweat on his forehead, moving his toupee slightly, as he proceeded down the list of sales.
"Thank you for your patience! As we wrap up today's listings, our final item is a real deal: a beautiful, eighteen-year-old flower all the way from South Blue! You can use her as a maid or cook, or she can help take care of your kids during the day, and at night…well, she can take care of you." The auctioneer winked, and the crowd laughed weakly. "We can confirm that our beautiful flower has never known the touch of any man, and so you can train her as you see fit! Now, bring her out!"
There was a smattering of applause as the auctioneer's assistant, a tall, tan woman dressed entirely in black, led the slave out onto the stage by her chains. The young woman who was about to be sold was shaking so hard that she took a substantial amount of time to walk to the stage's center. The assistant tugged at the chains impatiently, urging her along, and the woman tripped over the chains trapping her feet.
"Look at what a beauty she is!" The auctioneer wrapped his oily hand under her chin and pulled her face upward so that the crowd could get a better look. She was young, likely younger than eighteen, with limp mousy brown hair, hazel eyes, and freckles. Tears streamed down her face and she was whispering something under her breath—a wish, plea, or prayer to a god that did not exist, or better yet, did not care. Law watched her impassively, reminded not for the first time that the weak were not afforded the luxury of choice.
"She's a kid." Penguin's voice was completely flat, devoid of any emotion.
"They normally are," replied Law.
"Now, let's start the bidding! We begin with fifty thousand beli! Any takers?"
A host of hands raised their placards, some eagerly, others with the resignation of those who have accepted the blackest of their sins as an incurable fault. Disinterested, Law stood up, and his men immediately followed suit.
"Pen, go find the others and ready the ship," the captain said. "Bepo, you're with me."
"Aye," said Bepo. "Where are we going?"
Law fit his cap over his forehead snugly. "We're going to pay the auctioneer a visit."
The Heart Pirates left the town square. Out in the distance, the auctioneer's voice raised to an overwrought treble over the clamors of the crowd.
"We have two hundred, two-fifteen! Two-fifty, three hundred, yes, three hundred! Going once, going twice…three hundred thousand beli! Sold, to the gentleman in the red hat!"
The auctioneer lived in the largest building in Barracks Square. For a mansion, it was not incredibly impressive. Though it towered over its neighbors, it had the look of a building considered grand decades ago but was now in severe need of a fresh coat of paint and repairs to its cracked windows and limp porch swing. It clearly required upkeep that the owner was unwilling to provide, a sign of a man who yearned for grandeur but had no idea how to maintain it.
After stopping at a café for an iced coffee (the temperature had risen to a balmy seventeen degrees), Law and Bepo invited themselves into the auctioneer's home without ringing the doorbell. Inside was no different from what the mansion's exterior promised. Grimy portraits hung on the walls, and dust bunnies collected in the corners of the halls, wrapped around moth balls, the fatal toys of the occasional mouse.
"Is anyone home?" Law asked Bepo.
Bepo sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, upstairs. Think it's a study. Smells like a bunch of old books."
"The auctioneer?"
"And someone else too."
The Hearts ascended the spiral staircase, each step eliciting a groan from the rotting wood. As they neared the study, bits and pieces of a conversation came into earshot.
"Highest bid being three hundred thousand—this place has gone to the dogs," the auctioneer complained. "Even five years ago, we were selling all sorts of exotic things, and now our final showpiece is an ugly virgin."
"For shame," replied a woman with the tone of one accustomed to nonsensically agreeing with whatever was told her.
"I'm telling you, the slave trade's all about dried up here. The Grand Line, that's where the real money is. Back in the good ol' days, my biggest sale was an infant giant who weighed thirty pounds a birth! Got over a million beli off of it. Best day of my life. I had a friend who sold some freak Devil's Fruit user for over three million beli. That's the dream."
"Certainly. Mister Price, I believe we have some guests outside."
"What? Who?"
"I'm not sure," she answered pleasantly. "Let me check for you."
The door pulled open, revealing the woman in black. She wore sunglasses on indoors. She gave them a practiced smile, (A-plus for customer service), unperturbed by the unexplained visit.
"Why, hello there. Please, come in. Mister Price was just finishing things up. I'll be outside if you need anything, sir."
She slipped out beside Bepo, wisely removing herself from a situation that Law was certain would end messily. The pirates entered the study, a long, narrow room that felt more like a truncated corridor than a proper study. It was cluttered and dirty, just like the rest of the mansion. Books and binders were strewn over the floor and stacked without any organization on the bookshelves. A desk, the only piece of furniture other than the bookshelves, was at the furthest wall from the entrance. The rotund auctioneer sat behind it, his pudgy hands folded in front of him.
"Who the blazes are you?" Mister Price demanded. "You can't just come into my home like that unannounced."
Law ignored him and examined the binders lining the walls. Account records, sales histories, changes in market prices…some binders dated back decades. Perhaps he shouldn't have judged Tether Island so harshly. For how inept Price appeared, he was a meticulous record-keeper.
"Answer me!" Price roared, now standing up. He was significantly shorter than his assistant. "Who are you?"
"Please be quiet," said Bepo. "Captain's concentrating."
"Holy smokes, it's a bear! It talks!"
"He," corrected Law over Bepo's apology. "He's not an it, though as a slaver, I'm sure you're used to reducing most people to objects."
Price's beady eyes bulged out of his head. "Who're you? Get outta my house, you brat!"
"My name is Trafalgar Law," answered Law, running his fingers along the spines of several binders and pulling one dated ten years ago off the shelf. For some reason, records in the time frame Law was interested in were sparse, as if someone had already pulled them away. "I'm a pirate."
"Yer a pirate?" In his agitation, Price's polished speech was devolving into a local dialect. Law recognized it from a small archipelago in the eastern part of North Blue. "Wait, Trafalgar, y'say? I heard o' you…" He squinted in Law's direction. "Yer that surgeon! I heard o' you, choppin' people up into mincemeat and eatin' them—"
"That's misinformed," said Law dryly, "I don't eat them. Bepo does."
Bepo showed off his rows and rows of shiny, sharp teeth. Price's irritation melted into terror.
"W-What d'you want from m-me?"
"Just some information." Law pulled several other folders off the shelves. "I want to know the identities of your sellers."
"T-that's classified! I can't give 'em up—I'll lose all credibility as an auctioneer!"
"Better than losing your life. Bepo will eat you alive. He says the meat tastes better when it's fresh and screaming."
Price's face had gone waxy. "I got lots o' sellers! I can't possibly keep track o' em all!"
"Really?" Law pointed to the shelves. "These are extensive."
"G-give me a lil more information 'bout what y-you're lookin' for."
"Any extraordinary sales that you've had over the last ten years," the pirate answered. "The slaves and their sellers."
"Fine." The auctioneer rubbed his mustache nervously. "B-but I should warn you, many of those r-records are missing."
Law frowned. "Why? They should be more recent than some of the listings you have here."
"I lost them in the move to this island."
Law felt his temper rising. He was wasting his time with Price and this worthless island. He was tired of North Blue and its triviality; the fear he'd felt at the start of his journey as a child had long withered into a bored resignation. Tether Island was just another confirmation that Law's appetite for danger had whet into a monster North Blue could no longer contain. It was time to enter the Grand Line.
"Is everything you have in this room?" said Law. He extended his hand out to Bepo, who placed his nodachi into his palm. Price watched the exchange, increasingly diaphoretic.
"Y-yes, e-everything I own is here! P-please don't hurt me! I-I can pay you, just name yer price!"
"Not everyone can be bought and sold, Mister Price."
Law gestured to Bepo, and the polar bear advanced on the auctioneer. Price whimpered and pushed his chair back, only to hit the wall. Law resumed his scrutiny of the bookshelves. The smell of iron and flashes of blood filled the room, complemented by the sound of bones cracking and Price's screams. Over Bepo's reassurances of "Stop squirming, it'll be easier if you just sat there and let me kill you," Law found himself disappointed in the afternoon. It was always a mistake to allow his hopes to rise.
Bepo burped loudly as the two of them headed back to the Polar Tang.
"Did he taste better than he looked?"
Bepo sipped on his soda. "I didn't eat him, Captain! You need to stop saying that to people, it perpetuates the wrong idea. I only eat fish!"
"You bit him," Law pointed out. "You still tasted him."
"That's true," the bear admitted. "It was bad. Most humans are, but he was extra greasy."
"Maybe he would've been better deep-fried. We could try that next time."
Bepo wrinkled his nose. "No thanks."
He reshuffled the large cardboard box full of files in his hold and hoisted it over his shoulder. The box was only minimally splattered with blood, unlike the rest of Bepo's boiler suit, but the red didn't show up as strikingly against the orange. When it came to hiding blood, Bepo's choice of uniform color did a better job, but the rest of the crew refused point-blank to wear something so bright and ugly. Truthfully, the pale lilac boiler suits were no better, but Law decided the wardrobe discussion was a battle he didn't have any stakes in.
"Think there's anything good in here?"
"No," said Law. "It's probably all worthless, but I'm out of leads. We're just doing our due diligence, but I don't think North Blue has anything left to offer us."
"Grand Line time?!" Bepo said excitedly.
"Grand Line time," repeated Law.
The Polar Tang came into view, surrounded by a sea of pale uniforms. Tokan and Uni loaded what looked like the final crate of supplies on board, and on the crow's nest, Ikkaku peered out to sea through binoculars. A group of three men stood aimlessly in front of the submarine, chatting with a stranger. Penguin, the first-mate, spoke rapidly with a blush on his cheeks, while Shachi, his red-headed best friend and the Hearts' engineer, gesticulated stupidly with his hands. Clione, the cook, nodded eagerly along with whatever Penguin was saying.
Upon spotting Law and Bepo's return, Clione waved at them, his eggplant hat bobbing in the wind.
"Cap'n! Welcome back!"
Law nodded silently. Shachi and Penguin turned to him excitedly, eyes shining with the light of female attention.
"Look, Captain! This beautiful lady wants to join our crew!"
"Can she, please, please please—s"
"Not join, necessarily," said the stranger, eyes winking as she smiled. "Just hitch a ride."
She was now wearing a black felt hat in addition to her pre-existing all black ensemble, sunglasses included, but Law recognized her as Price's assistant. Law frowned at the sight of her. She had a thin, reedy build, with skin the color of perfectly baked bread and jet black hair that was severely straightened, ending in a sharp asymmetric edge at her shoulders. She smiled at him, that same, measured smile that she'd greeted them with back in Price's study. It made Law wary.
"Hello, Mister Trafalgar Law," she said. "My name is Everly Jade."
"Miss Jade came up to us and asked to join our crew!" Shachi said excitedly. "Wouldn't that be cool?"
"So cool," Penguin echoed.
Law glared at his first-mate. "You don't recognize her?"
"What?"
"She was at the auction," said Law. "She's the auctioneer's assistant. A slaver."
Penguin's eyes widened and both he and Shachi took a step back from Jade. "Oh, shit…you're right. I totally didn't realize!"
"Because you're blind when it comes to women," said Bepo. "You told me before, all you see are boobs and butts."
"S-shut up, Bepo!"
Law turned to the slaver. "Miss Everly, the only people who board my ship are crewmates and temporary vessels for future organ harvests. Unless you're willing to donate all your organs, I'm not sure what you want from us, but we're in a hurry."
"So am I," she replied, her expression unchanged despite Law's brusqueness. "I was just telling Mister Penguin that I'd like to board your ship."
"What the hell for?"
"Well, thanks to you, my employer is…indisposed." She had a creepy smile, and it took Law a moment to realize that it was because she didn't show her teeth. "So I'm out of a job. I was hoping I could tag along with you. Your men said you're aiming for the Grand Line?"
"Why would you think I'd give free passage to a slaver," he said coolly.
"You're a pirate," she said pointedly. "A bit rich to be judging my occupation, mm?"
"One's a lifestyle. The other's a choice." Law's lips curled in disgust. "Get out of my sight."
Law brushed past her to board his ship, but she grabbed his arm in a surprisingly firm grip to stop him. Immediately, Law snatched her wrist and moved to pin her arm behind her back, but she twisted around so fluidly it looked like she didn't have a spine, and then brought a small knife up to Law's neck. Before it touched skin, Law had her other wrist grabbed too, holding the blade at a distance.
"Oh, not too bad," she said, still smiling. "Good reaction time. I shouldn't have expected anything less from a man worth one-hundred-fifty million beli."
Law pushed her away, eyes narrowed. "You know who I am."
"Of course," said Jade, massaging her wrist. "You're famous in North Blue. Just because Mister Price is an antiquated mammoth doesn't mean we all are."
"Then you should know how stupid it is to piss me off."
"I haven't even done anything!" she said, mockingly aghast. "I'm just asking for a ride, all right? I can pay you for the trip."
"Slavers. You're all the same, thinking money can buy your passage in life. You could sell me your soul and I'd still leave you rotting in hell."
"Well, that's just silly when my soul is worth oh-so-very-little," she said with a careless wave. "I'm not offering you money, I know that's too boring for you. You wanted records from Price. I have those." She gestured to the substantial canvas bag at her feet, bulging oddly with papers and unspecified objects. "If you give me safe passage, I'll give these to you."
"Price said he'd lost them in a move."
"I lost them for him." For the first time, her voice had an edge of pride. "I needed some information from them, so I told him they'd been misplaced."
It was becoming blatantly obvious who had truly run the slaver's trade in Tether Island. Law glanced down at the bulging bag and then up at Jade's face, where her crimson-painted lips were still curled upward in a perfect smile. Didn't her muscles hurt from keeping her face that way?
"What makes you think I won't just kill you and take the records for myself?"
"They're in code," she answered easily, as if she'd anticipated this question. "Once you get me where I want to go, I'll translate them for you, and you'll never have to see me again."
"No." Law turned to leave, and his men followed suit. "I don't need a slaver contaminating my ship."
"Oh, come on," protested Jade. "I'll be so quiet you won't even remember I'm there! I'll be a barnacle, just floating along with you guys!"
"We remove all barnacles promptly," announced Shachi.
"Because they're gross," agreed Clione.
"Like slavers," added Bepo.
Behind her sunglasses, Jade was most definitely rolling her eyes. "I can't believe I'm arguing about morality with pirates. You guys think you're so pure—it's cute. Remember that girl we sold today? She was the latest shipment from Courter's Port."
The Hearts except for Law stiffened collectively.
"Sound familiar?" said Jade cheerily. "Two months ago, the Heart Pirates clashed with Marines in Courter's Port and left the island in chaos. Marines declared it untenable, and the island lost all protection from lesser pirates that plundered it after. You think that girl was a virgin? Give me a fucking break. You guys sold her just as much as I did."
The Hearts shifted uncomfortably on their feet, but Law was unfazed.
"I have no interest in your false platitudes, Miss Everly," he said. "If you think guilt-tripping pirates will aid your cause, you'll be begging until Mariejois falls. Do not blame us for your fake moral equivalences. The weak don't get to choose how they die."
Law began to ascend the gangplank aboard the Polar Tang when, in a clear last-ditch effort to keep Law's attention, Jade called out,
"I'm looking for a man named Joker."
Law froze. Slowly, he turned around, to find Jade smiling up at him, this time with a bit more effort.
"How do you know that name?" he asked.
"If you don't ask me how, I'll do you the same courtesy. But I guarantee you that I know more about the slave trade than anyone else in North Blue. I think we can help each other out. Get me to Sabaondy Archipelago, and I'll tell you what I know about him."
Law wished she'd remove her sunglasses. There was something unnerving about staring back into his own reflection, and it brought back memories of looking into the face of his mortal enemy and not seeing anything except his own hateful face.
He wanted nothing to do with a slaver, much less one who was clearly so manipulative that she'd slipped past his radar in his initial assessment. She rang of danger, a snake who would strike at the surest sign of weakness. He did not trust her around his men.
But she knew about Joker.
It wasn't even a choice he struggled to make.
"Barnacle," he said tonelessly.
Jade's smile smoothed out.
"Barnacle," she reassured him.
Law resumed his trek back to his ship.
"Put her in a cell," Law ordered his men. "Any suspicious movements and you're free to kill her."
"I promise you," she said sweetly, "that won't be necessary."
Law ignored her and entered the Polar Tang. Behind him, his men escorted Everly Jade to the depths of the submarine where the cells were located, and he knew she was smiling all the while. He could not shake the feeling that he was making a mistake, but he steeled himself.
He chose not to remember what had happened the last time he'd made a deal with a devil in sunglasses.