Prologue

A History of Greed

Somebody once said that in this life, there was bound to be changes. One day, there would be people you wouldn't see any longer, places you couldn't visit anymore, things you couldn't do. And the list went on. You simply could not live a constant life forever. The same goes for Arazi Kafka.

She had a routine that she abides to day by day. Each morning, she'd go down to the market and wander about for at least half an hour, watching vendors set up their stalls. And when the clock chimes eight, indicating the start of the morning rush, she'd be by her father's stall, helping him trade until the sun set, dealing with customers of different origins.

But today was a little bit different. When she woke up, her father was already seated in the kitchen, on his place by the table, drinking his morning tea. Arazi Akeem glanced at her with his dark eyes – the same ones Kafka had. He stopped counting the money in his hands. When they exchanged morning pleasantries, even she knew there was something bothering him. He hadn't returned to counting his money again.

"What's wrong, Da?" she asked, taking her place across from him. Their kitchen was quite spacious and complete with kitchen appliances despite nobody ever actually using it. Akeem couldn't cook and Kafka had forgone the idea of cooking ever since she flooded the whole house with black smoke.

Akeem stared at her. And Kafka recognized the look in his eyes: worry. There was a moment of silence between them. After some moment of waiting, Akeem finally sighed and pushed the money inside his pockets. He took a sip of his tea.

"You don't have to come to the market today." He said in his usual raspy voice.

"Why?"

"It's not safe. Pirates have been sighted near the harbor last night."

Kafka snorted, her hand moved to grab a piece of pita bread.

"Da, I have been living here since forever and helping you with your business ever since I was twelve. I have dealt with pirates before; I know all the dangers in this job."

"It's different this time. They are no ordinary pirates. Stay here. I'm serious, Kafka." Her father said, voice stern. He put down his cup and stood up, making his way out of the kitchen. He hovered on the door, glancing back at her. And when he spoke again, his voice was considerably softer. "I'll bring you back something later."

Not feeling up for a debate so early in the morning, she just sighed and nibbled her bread. She could hear the sound of her father leaving the house. Her father might have asked her to stay in the house, but that didn't mean she had to do it. She loved her father. Really. And she believed that he also loved her in his own way. But if she had to stay cooped up inside her house for even a day, she knew she'd go mad. 'When the clock chimes eight,' she thought.

The bell couldn't have rung sooner. Kafka finished washing the teapot and cups and plates but the bell still hadn't rang. Her teeth gnawed her underlip. The moment the first sound reverberated across the city, she snatched her satchel and went out. Her steps were light as she practically dashed to the market.

The market was a busy place especially during Sunday morning. It was the only occasion when merchants originating from outside the city could do open trade within their own shops and gather their own profits. The sight was as familiar as always, had it not been for the increased amount of marine officers patrolling the area.

Still, Kafka felt the same old comfort engulfing her from the sight. She had always found crowded places secure. Faces she didn't know would pop out here and there, interesting items she could never procure on daily basis, but most importantly, she felt safe among these strangers. She didn't know them and they didn't know her. It was as simple as that.

Among this sea of strangers, she could recognize the person waving her over. Her curly hair was let loose as always. Each curls bounced along with each jump she did on her place. She was brimming with energy. It made Kafka wonder where those energy came from.

"Morning, Kafka." Samira grinned at her. Samira was the exact opposite of Kafka. She was cheerful and optimistic, always the hopeless romantic. And despite her boundless energy, she didn't seem to mind settling down early in her life. "Did you hear the news? Some notorious pirates docked on our harbor."

"I've heard about it," Kafka said as they made their way through the bustling market. "Why do you ask?"

"Because this is so exciting!" her friend said, skipping two steps ahead in front of her. "Strong pirates are coming to our island. Imagine, being held in their strong arms while they whisked us away. Isn't it romantic?" she squealed.

Kafka chuckled. "They are no prince charming though."

Samira turned and stuck her tongue out. "You, my dear friend, are no fun." Then she bursted into laughter. The kind that was contagious to people nearby that made Kafka join. Once they calmed down, she asked, "Why aren't you with your father?"

"He doesn't want me to go out today."

Samira simply nodded and with a serious look on face said, "But you just went out anyway."

"Yeah." Kafka chuckled. "You know I don't like staying cooped up inside."

They made their way around the market. Now Kafka understood why her father had been so worried. It wasn't just the pirates; the World Nobles had also come. Pinpointing them wasn't hard with those ridiculous costumes they had done in order to protect themselves from breathing in the common people's air. Now that she knew, it made her wonder why some prominent people decided to come to their city. Jahad morning market was wonderful. But compared to their neighboring island, the Sabaody Archipelago, with their auction house, it was nothing. Not to mention, the World Nobles didn't come often, much preferring to buy slaves in Sabaody. Most people who come to the city were merchants or pirates who hoped to get supplies.

Upon seeing the Nobles, Kafka and Samira unconsciously scooted closer to each other, hoping to go by unnoticed. It was working well up until they got closer to Akeem's shop. There was a huge crowd assimilated in front of it. Once they were on hearing range, Kafka could hear the yelling. She recoiled when she saw the World Noble, followed behind by another man, scrawny and cadaverous – his slave, she thought bitterly. Behind him stood two guards.

Akeem saw her first. His face didn't change, but Kafka could tell from the slightest twitch on the corner of his mouth that he was pleased to see her there.

"Kafka." He said, beckoning her over.

She stepped closer, standing by his side all while casting wary look to the Noble.

"This is Saint Maximilian," her father put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Saint Maximilian, please let me introduce you to my daughter, Kafka Arazi."

"A pleasure." the man said, eyes scanning her facial feature and moving up and down to check her whole body.

"Like..." she paused, unsure, "...wise."

"He has heard about your talent and has stated his desire to marry you." Akeem was beaming at her, obviously proud.

"No." The answer was instantaneous. She had no desire to marry anyone. And even if she wanted to, it certainly wouldn't be to someone like him - an arrogant, selfish, incorrigible bastard like him.

"What?!" The noble exclaimed. His face was contorting with fury. "How dare you commoner-! And just when I was being nice and courteous!"

Her father held up his hands in an attempt to appease him and he glanced at her. But when he talked, his tone was laced with worry. "Now, Saint Maximilian. Please, calm down and let me talk to my daughter first. She must have misunderstood the situation."

Maximilian growled. "Fine. You have five minutes or the deal is off."

"I thank you," Akeem bowed and grabbed Kafka's hand, pulling her inside the stall. He let her go once they were inside.

"What's going on, Da?" Kafka asked. "I don't want get married. Much less to a stranger like him."

"Kafka please, you must understand." Her father said. "I know you don't want to marry in the near future, but this is once in a life chance. If you become the wife of a world noble, our future will be secured."

"Oh, so it's the money?" Kafka scoffed. Now everything made sense. Of course it was the money. That was all that matters to her father. Silence settled among them. And when she spoke again, she could barely contain the hurt in her voice. "You're selling me to him, aren't you? You will do that? To your own daughter?"

Her father sighed and looked away. "This is the best for you."

"The best for me? Then what about what I think?" Kafka wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. However she merely gritted her teeth. "You're always thinking about yourself. This is why Ma left."

She knew she hit the right button because Akeem's face twisted into anger. "Your mother?" he scoffed. "Your mother left twelve years ago. And what had she done to us before leaving? Nothing. Except bringing trouble in our doorstep."

Kafka opened her mouth, about to retort, but the door was wrenched open before she could utter a word.

"Time's up!" the noble declared and gestured to the two soldiers behind him. "Take her away!"

With an exclamation of "Yes, Sir!" they immediately moved to restrain her. They grabbed her hand and put them behind her back.

"Let go!" she screamed, struggling to get away from her captors. She could see her father looking at them with fear in his eyes. She could see Samira watching wide-eyed from within the crowd, her mouth moving in silent prayer.

"Your father said it himself. This is a trade and the trade is sacred. Or are you trying to soil it?" He looked around at the audience that had gathered and asked them. "Or is there anyone among you who will say differently?"

She threw a glare at him. Selfish arrogant narcissistic son of a bitch! How dare he use the teaching of our God against us?

A murmur of unease spread among the crowd, but none of them stepped forward. The trade had been made. Beside, which sane person would cross a world noble?

This seemed to please him. He pulled bundles of cash out and threw it to Akeem. "Here. Everything could be bought for the right price in this city, right?" He laughed again. "I suppose your daughter is no different."

Kafka looked at her father, hoping him to do something, to stop them. Anything really. But he only stood there, staring at the money lying on the ground. And the worst part was she knew he wouldn't do anything. And maybe it was that small naïve part of her that never grew up – the part that still wanted to believe in princesses and their happily-ever-afters - that didn't stop her from begging him. She had escaped marriage this whole time. She didn't want to marry now, not when she was only twenty. She loved her freedom. Too much perhaps. Just as much as her father loved his money. "Da, please. This freedom is the last thing I have - the only thing. If they take it, I don't know what will be left of me. Please, Da. Please. Don't let them take me."

But he didn't look up. And she realized, a little too late, that he wouldn't.

One Piece (c) Eiichiro Oda

OCs (c) Me

~Reviews are greatly appreciated~