ONE PIECE: WORTHLESS PROGRESSION

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July 16, 1496

The crowd erupted into chaos, and in an instant, what was once a still mass of people turned into a full-blown stampede. Raoul quickly grabbed Toshi, pulling him off his back.

"Look what you did, kid! I told you to shut up! Ugh—" Raoul grumbled, but his words were abruptly cut off as he was shoved to the ground, trampled underfoot by the frantic crowd.

"Hahahaha! That's what you get for—" Toshi's laughter was abruptly cut short as he saw Raoul being flattened under the sheer force of the stampede. His grin quickly faded as a wave of guilt washed over him.

"Raoul!" Toshi shouted, pushing his way through the thrashing bodies. But it was like trying to swim through a sea of people. Toshi barely caught sight of Raoul's hand reaching out from beneath a pile of legs and feet.

"Dammit, kid! Get me out of here!" Raoul grunted, trying to push himself up but being crushed back down by the stampede.

Toshi's instincts kicked in. Ignoring the frantic crowd around him, he dove toward Raoul, grabbing his arm and pulling with all his might. "Hold on!" Toshi grunted, his voice strained as he hauled Raoul to his feet, almost losing his own balance.

With one final heave, Toshi managed to pull Raoul out of the mess, the two of them stumbling backward toward a nearby alley, narrowly avoiding being caught in the mob.

Toshi landed on his back, while Raoul took a face-first dive into the ground. Toshi laughed between heavy breaths, still trying to catch his wind.

" HAHA Look at your face! " Toshi continued laughing. Raoul, panting and covered in dirt, had bruises blooming on his skin, and boot prints marred his shirt. He slowly pushed himself up, shooting Toshi an angry glare. But as he took a quick glance behind Toshi, his expression shifted from anger to...fear.

" That's him sir! that boy scammed us! " A burly voice came from behind Toshi. To which Toshi slowly turned his head, his heart sinking as he recognized the voices. It was the same group of pirates from today, their expressions making it clear they hadn't forgotten him. He knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with him, and now, there was no running.

Raoul's hand instinctively moved to his waist where he kept a hidden blade, his posture shifting into a defensive stance. He glanced over at Toshi with a stern look, clearly ready to fight if it came to that.

"Raoul..." Toshi muttered...Raoul with his voice low, "I can handle this."

Raoul narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "You've got guts, kid, but I don't think you understand the kind of trouble you've stirred up. These aren't the kind of people you want to piss off." His gaze turned hard. "Stay behind me." Raoul stepped in front of Toshi, who was too stunned to speak, his body frozen in place.

Suddenly, a figure walked out from the group of pirates, stepping forward with a slow, deliberate walk. The man was tall, with a lean but a heavier muscular build. He wore a black button-up shirt, half-unbuttoned to reveal a broad chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A burn scar, dark and jagged, wrapped around his entire left arm.

His pants were a worn, faded black, tucked neatly into a pair of sturdy sea boots, each scuffed and battered from countless rough days at sea. His long, white hair hung in the air, tangled strands, half-obscuring his face and giving him a rugged look. Beneath it, a thick, crooked scar ran from his neck up to his lip, pulling his mouth into a permanent, faint sneer. Around his waist hung two small sickles, tied together with a chain. 

' He's different from the man I met before... ' Toshi thought, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead and his breathing raced. ' Raoul might be trouble... all because of me. ' He gritted his teeth, his fist clenching in frustration. There was nothing he could do, his body couldn't move. 

The man took another step forward, and with it, the air shifted. It grew thicker, and filled with nothing but pure bloodlust, thick enough to feel like it was pressing down on Toshi's chest.

" Hmmmm...what do I do with you now? My crew members are not happy with you at all... " The black haired man sighed as if completely bored of the entire situation. 

After a moments of silence pondering, he smacked his hands together, " I know...you'll be sold off as a slave. " He said in the most casual demeanor as if he was talking about the weather. As much as Toshi wanted to reject the idea, the man in front of him seemed to have no issues with killing or possibly torturing.

Raoul's eyebrows furrowed as he gripped his small dagger tightly. "I'll kill you before I let that happen..." His hand trembled slightly, betraying the fear that gnawed at him. But despite the fear, he couldn't let them take Toshi away.

The man remained utterly unfazed by Raoul, as if he didn't exist. His attention was solely on Toshi, taking one step, then another, until he loomed directly over him, his calm, piercing gaze fixed on Toshi's eyes. 

Behind them, Raoul's patience shattered. "Oi! Don't ignore me!" he bellowed, charging forward with fists clenched. He crossed the space in seconds, stopping barely half a meter from the man before swinging the dagger in a wide, brutal arc aimed directly at his head.

"Let's go, before I have to drag you," he demanded, slipping both hands casually into his pockets, as if offering Toshi a choice. Though, in reality, there were none.

In that instant, the air thickened, as though time itself slowed, every eye fixed on Raoul's attack, waiting for the blow to land. But in the blink of an eye, Raoul's arm was severed, flying through the air before landing beside Toshi with a soft, wet thud.

Toshi's gaze slowly drifted down to the arm on the ground, blood oozing from the severed limb and pooling around it in a dark, glistening puddle. His eyes widened, going blank as he struggled to process what he was seeing. His gaze shifted up to Raoul, who stood there, staring in shock at the gaping wound where his arm had been. Blood poured from the stump, streaming down his side in torrents, staining the ground beneath him.

Raoul fell back completely unconscious. Was he....Dead? 

The man stood their his sickle in one hand with blood dropping off the tip. The man continued to stare into Toshi's eye's, his black eyes piercing through the strand of hair that covered his face.

BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOOD!

. . . . .

BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOOD! BLOOD!

"Wa-wa... Is... is that bloeugh—" Toshi's words were cut off by a sickening churn in his stomach, rising up his throat until he erupted in a torrent of vomit and bile.

A cold chill ran down his spine as his vision blurred, and a harsh ringing filled his ears. His body felt feverishly hot, and the narrow alley way around him suddenly seemed smaller as if pressing against him, stifling, as if the very air was vanishing. He gasped, desperate for breath, as though all the oxygen had been sucked away, leaving only a tiny, unreachable pocket of air.

His strength drained, his legs wobbled, and he felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. Darkness crept into his vision, and before he could brace himself, Toshi's body gave in, his eyes slipping shut as he fell backward, completely unconscious.

"Oh, he's unconscious..." a shallow voice cut through the darkness, distant yet piercing. It echoed faintly in Toshi's mind, slipping through the shadows like a whisper he could barely grasp.

. . . . .

Toshi's eyes snapped open, darting around as he took in his surroundings. He was in a small, dim room...more like a prison cell, really. Wooden walls boxed him in on three sides, one with a narrow window crossed by thick iron bars that let in only a sliver of light.

There was no visible way out, and the thick iron bars in front of him looked old but unbreaking. His palms grew clammy, and he could feel his clothes clinging to his damp back, his hair matted and damp at the base of his neck. His skin prickled as goosebumps rose along his arms, an unsettling chill ran through his spine.

Using all the strength he could muster, Toshi kicked against the iron bars. Predictably, they didn't budge, standing solid and immovable, with only a faint, cool breeze slipping through.

Fear gripped him by the throat. One moment he'd been in an alleyway, and now he was trapped in a prison cell. Toshi wasn't built for this; he was no fighter, just an ordinary guy and if anything, he was weaker than most.

In this world, like a merciless jungle, the weak were preyed upon by the strong. Here, the strong ruled, and the weak didn't stand a chance. It was the brutal law of nature, and he was painfully aware of just how low he stood on that hierarchy.

" Fuck…" Toshi muttered, clutching his forehead as sweat poured down his face. His heart raced, each beat pounding harder as his back slid down against the rough wooden wall. He felt utterly powerless, weaker than he'd ever felt in his life.

He was utterly Worthless.

Weak...

Nothing...

Waste of space...

Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as a quiet whimper escaped him, the sound of despair. He drew his knees to his chest, curling up into a tight ball. A last, instinctive shield against a world that seemed hell-bent on breaking him.

Raoul, the one person he had trusted, was probably dead. Toshi himself had been captured and was likely stranded on some pirate ship, just waiting to be made a slave. Alone, taken from everything he knew, he was left with nothing but himself.

This was another reason Toshi couldn't bring himself to trust anyone. It was always the same...either they'd throw him under the bus, cast him aside, or end up dead. It felt like a never-ending cycle.

Anyone else in his shoes would've felt the same too. This wasn't a situation a normal person could withstand; it was the kind of fear that beat people down into submission, no questions asked.

KNOCK KNOCK

The sound of knuckles knocking against wood echoed from his right.

"You'll get used to it after a while..." A rough, childish voice called from down the hall.

Toshi's head slowly lifted, quickly wiping his face and nose. He didn't respond, remaining silent.

" I get it, the feeling of complete despair. However, it's not so bad if you just do as your told and get it over with. That's my advice to you newcomer... " The childish voice said once more despite Toshi untalkative state.

Toshi opened his mouth, his voice barely a whisper. "Is it… really that bad?" he asked, in a somber tone.

A moment of silence hung in the air before the voice responded, low and steady. "If you can handle the back-breaking work… and possible torture," it said, "you'll make it, at least until they decide to sell you off. Maybe you'll get lucky… maybe a good guy will buy you and save you from the worst."

Toshi sat in the dim light, processing the voice's words. The thought of "selling" someone off sent a cold shiver through him. 'What did I land myself in...' His heart raced. Was this his fate now? Was he nothing more than a piece of property to be sold?

"What's your name?" the voice asked softly, the harsh edge gone. It was as if they were trying to offer him some sliver of comfort.

"Toshi," he replied, his voice shaky but grateful for the gentler tone. It felt strange, sharing something so personal in a place like this. For a fraction of a moment, he could almost forget the bars and the possible dangers that was to come.

"What's yours?" Toshi asked, his tone polite, though he felt it was more out of respect, since this person had done all the talking.

The voice paused for a moment, as if weighing the question. "I don't know... but people call me Maliketh. You can call me Mali though." The softer tone was gone now, replaced by something more guarded. Toshi's question had likely stirred up some painful memories.

Toshi didn't want to pry any further since he just met the guy, he didn't want to come off as too pushy.

Toshi feeling a bit more comfortable spoke, " How'd you get here? " Toshi asked just trying to make by conversation. Mali kept quiet once more before responding, " Sorry, but that's not something I can answer... "

He leaned back against the cold wall, letting out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He had been in tough situations before, but nothing like this. He had to get out—had to find a way to survive.

Toshi closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. He didn't ask for this. He didn't ask to be trapped in this hellhole, with no control over his future. It had been a lifetime of fighting to survive, only to end up here...a slave.

In his past life, Toshi had known that slaves were once sold, regarded as nothing more than pieces of cloth...less than human. But to actually think he'd end up as one... that was a nightmare come true.

"How long have you been here?" Toshi's question came out quieter than he intended, almost a whisper.

"Long enough to stop counting," Mali replied, the edge in his voice sharpening slightly. "Time doesn't matter when you're stuck in a cage. The work's grueling, and there's no end in sight. But if you keep your head down and your mouth shut, you'll get by. It's the ones who try to fight back that end up worse."

Toshi ran his hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him. Was this it? Was this all he had to look forward to? A life spent in chains, breaking his back for others, and being sold off?

He shook his head, not willing to accept it. There had to be another way. He wasn't going to let this be his end.

"And if I don't keep my head down?" Toshi's voice was steady now.

There was a long pause from the other side of the bars. When Mali spoke again, his voice was darker, colder. "Then you'll learn what true pain is. Trust me, they don't take kindly to rebels here."

CLUCK CLUCK*

Toshi swallowed hard, processing Mali's words, when the sound of clanking echoed down the hall.

"Oh shit, he's here..." Mali whispered before falling completely silent.

"Who...?" Toshi asked quickly, but no reply came.

The sound of the boots grew louder, echoing through the narrow corridor. Toshi's heartbeat raced, and he felt a chill creep up his spine. Since he himself didn't know what to expect.

When suddenly a pirate stood in front his cell and grin on his face, " It's time to get scrubbing the decks.. " The man took another step forward, keys dangling his right arm. Before using it to unlock his cell.

Toshi glared up at the pirate, he could lunge forward, knock the keys from his hand, make a break for it… but in reality was that he'd probably get pummeled into the deck before he made it two steps out of the cell.

So, instead, he forced himself to swallow his pride, his fists unclenching as he sighed. "Fine," he muttered, keeping his tone flat.

The pirate's grin widened as he stepped aside, motioning Toshi forward. "Smart kid," he taunted, "knows his place already. This'll be fun."

Toshi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay quiet as he walked out of the cell. The pirate gave him a shove, nearly knocking him into the wall, as they made their way toward the stairs that led to the deck above.

As Toshi climbed, he glanced back over his shoulder, taking mental notes of every door, every turn. If he was going to survive this, he'd need to memorize every inch of the ship. Freedom might be out of reach for now, but he'd keep his eyes open for any hint of an opening.

'This is just another step...' Toshi thought, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

When they reached the deck, Toshi was hit with the bright light of day and the sharp, salty air. He blinked, momentarily stunned by the vast expanse of ocean stretching out around them. It was beautiful, but it also reminded him just how isolated he was....trapped in the middle of nowhere, with no way to swim to safety.

The pirate ship was massive, its wooden hull weathered and scarred from countless grueling years at sea. The sails were patched in places, yet still billowed proudly in the salty breeze, bearing a faded Jolly Roger insignia an anchor crossed by a hammerhead shark skull with a red beard.

Ropes dangled from the masts, swaying gently with the rhythm of the waves, while barrels and crates cluttered the deck, likely filled with stolen loot.

Pirates strolled about, some laughing boisterously as they gambled tirelessly. The slaves worked, hauling ropes or scrubbing the deck, though even those chores were accompanied by crude jokes and mocking shouts. A few leaned against the rails, puffing on pipes as they gazed off the ship. The air reeked of salt, sweat, and the faint stench of rum that seemed to cling to every inch of the ship.

The pirate tossed a battered bucket and a worn brush at Toshi's feet. "Get to it," he barked, leaning back lazily against the mast with a smirk. "And don't even think about slacking off, or your back will feel the bite of the lash." He chuckled darkly, tugging at the coiled whip in his hands.

With a hesitant nod, Toshi picked up the brush and started scrubbing. The bristles were worn, the handle rough and splintered, but he forced himself to focus, to keep his head down and get through it. 

As the sun climbed higher, Toshi's hands started to blister, his shoulders ached, and his back was drenched in sweat. But he kept at it, scrubbing every inch of the deck, his mind fixated on one thought. . . . surviving long enough to find a way out.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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