A/N: Hello guys, I'm back again with another story - hopefully this time one that won't be forgotten about.

Anyway, this was written as a way to get me back into the swing of things.

This particular piece will be a slow build story - meaning that it will not just jump right into the action and adventure most common with One Piece fanfictions. It will also, I hope, be a bit more serious than the anime typically is, though it will still be humorous and full of adventure.

This story is, as you may have guessed, going to revolve round an original character and will follow his journey alongside his friends. Of course, while this is still an OC story it will tie into the anime and yes, he's probably going to join the Strawhat Pirates.

Basically this is just written for fun and while the summary is not the best I hope you will give this story a fair chance and that you will enjoy it.

Reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome, I'm always looking to improve.

I will also be posting this to both Wattpad and AO3 so if you se it there please don't freak out.

This story is Unedited so I apologize for any spelling errors within.

Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any affiliated characters - I only own my character.


Prologue

A few years earlier…

The ship emerged from the pre-dawn mist like a wraith upon the calm waters.

With its unmarked sails furled and securely tied off, a safety precaution to keep the morning breeze from catching and pulling them forward, the ship cut across the calm ocean waves by the sole power of four oars - each one handled by a single oarsman; they were the best of the best, trained to keep the sleek cargo vessel moving forward all while maintaining the silence needed to stay unnoticed.

The men aboard knew exactly what they were doing - they knew how to keep the oars just a scant few inches above the water at the end of each powerful stroke, moving them in a way that limited any noise as they were lowered back down into the churning waves, propelling the ship further towards the empty beach with each passing moment.

Stealth was an absolute necessity when approaching an enemy coastline - and when your line of work was slavery, well, every coast was an enemy coast.

But they needn't have worried - such was the skill of the oarsmen that the loudest noise in the budding silence was the steady lapping of the waves against the side of the ship, a noise that could be passed off as nothing more than driftwood in the surf.

It was nothing to worry about.

Slowly the ship drew closer to the shoreline - gliding forward inch by inch under the practiced care of the sailors.

Upon the deck, situated near the prow of the ship and nestled in the shadows, were two men armed to the teeth - one was a burly man with rippling muscle and a canvas of scars littering the expanse of his exposed chest and arms.

At a glance he looked to be in his late forties; he was tall, standing well over six feet. With beady black eyes dark as coal, and a knotted mess of tangled hair the colour of ash. His face was chiseled and covered in stubble, an ugly scar running across the bridge of his nose marred his face, while another equally jagged scar cut down across his neck at an odd angle - an everlasting reminder of some poor bastards failed attempt to end his life.

The second figure was younger man, probably no older than thirty years of age. He stood a good head and a half shorter than his companion - his eyes were the colour of the sea, an almost eerie shade of blue, and looked to be as sharp as a birds. His hair was the colour of sand and braided into a single ponytail that hung down over his left shoulder.

He was not as burly as his companion - his frame was lean and built for speed rather than raw power, yet despite his lithe frame and deceptively easygoing smile, he still managed to maintain an air around himself that seemed to scream: don't fuck with me.

Not surprising really - considering who these men were it was no shock that they were exuding an aura of pure danger.

They were the second and third most dangerous people aboard the ship, the captain's most trusted followers and his closest confidants - they were his first mate and intelligence officer.

With the beach fast approaching and their mission soon to be underway, the shorter of the two men turned his attention to the dark waters below.

"Are you certain this course is wise?" The blonde asked, his tone was light and almost mocking as he gazed upon the water with narrowed eyes; always attentive to their surroundings.

The man beside him grunted, yet didn't bother to reply, merely rolling his massive shoulders and hefting the large battle axe higher so he might get a better grip.

The blonde rolled his eyes.

"Charming as ever I see." He grumbled under his breath, leaving the rather one-sided conversation in order to cast a look down the ship to where the captain stood at the helm, one hand resting upon the oak wood wheel as he steered the ship towards their destination.

Giving one short, sharp, whistle to gain the attention of his captain the blonde slowly raised a hand showing five fingers - he lowered one, and then another, and then another after that.

Once the silent countdown had reached zero the captain spoke, his gaze never once leaving the other man's clenched fist.

"Raise the oars."

A simple command - but one they all knew well.

It would not be long now, a few more minutes at the most and then they would be on their way to collect their newest cargo.

Some might say that dealing in the trade of human flesh may have been a deplorable and dishonorable line of work - perhaps they were right, maybe it was a cruel practice, but then again if there were no slaves and servants how would the nobles ever survive?

After all, it was men like that who all but demanded the continuation of the trade - and unsurprisingly it was also those same men and women who kept the business booming, even hundreds of years later when slavery was all but outlawed.

So it was a hidden line of work - an under the table kind of deal. Neither of which bothered the men onboard all that much. So long as they got paid, and they could have a little fun from time to time, the men were happy to ignore everything else.

They were all former pirates after all - why should they care what the world government banned, or rather, what they failed to ban.

How ironic. I do wonder though, what would happen if word spread that the nobles were trading in slavery. The blonde thought to himself with a lazy smirk, scratching at his chin with faint amusement.

Nothing good would come of it he knew - but the option to turn the world against the highborn classes was always on his mind at times such as these.

Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he'd used that knowledge and a threat of exposure to gain a few favors among the nobles.

It was just business after all.

A tap on his shoulder brought the intelligence officer from his musings and soon enough he was focused back on the present - it was a good thing too, because by the looks of it they were just about ready to kick things off.

With the oars stopped and the men ready for action it was only a short wait before the prow of the ship met soft sand. Sven, the blonde haired man, felt the vibrations from the soft impact through the soles of his leather boots as they traveled up his legs.

With a flick of his wrist Sven motioned for two of his men to follow him as he vaulted over the railing and landed, with a cat-like grace, upon the wet sand below.

As one the three of them moved forward, his men fanning out to the left and right while he himself headed forward towards the treeline - it was their job to scout the area; to locate any unwanted witnesses and silence them before the alarm was raised and they were forced to fight or in some rare cases, flee.

He picked his way carefully across the sandy beach, moving like a shadow in the dim light of the early hours until he was a few paces within the treeline - there he waited, eyes scouring the forest with an intense focus as he prowled silently through the trees.

Back and forth his gaze flickered, latching onto any hint of movement or sound until he was sure that there was no one around to witness what would come next.

Satisfied he turned and strode back across the beach, an easy smile upon his face as he sidled up next to the burly form of their first mate; Barkus - who was busy securing the ship so that it would not unintentionally float away.

That had happened to them once before, way back when they had just started out in the business - the captain had not been pleased about it.

Relaying his report of the surrounding area back to the captain, he then turned his attention to his men and gave them a look they knew well.

"I want you both to keep an eye out for any unwanted eyes." He told them, his tone firm and serious. "Take them out quietly if you think you can manage it, but make sure they do not get aboard the ship. Understood?"

"Aye!" came the instant reply and without further instructions the two men split off from the main group and headed out into the surrounding forest.

They knew what to do.

With that done Sven turned his attention back to the captain, who had just landed on the sand to his right and was now busy dusting his pants off to be rid of any lingering grains of sand - a useless endeavor in Sven's opinion, considering where they were, but that was just how their captain was; looks were everything to him after all.

"Are we ready?" The captain asked and Sven gave a nod of his head.

"Yes sir. We're ready to get under way on your orders, captain." He replied, his right hand drifting down to finger the hilt of his sword, a hint of eagerness entering his tone as he awaited the order.

The captain turned to look at his crew, a lazy smirk curling his lips as he took in their eager expressions. It was always like this, every time they landed and were about to embark - his crew always resembled the look of a child in a candy store, and perhaps it would have been amusing if one could ignore the bloodthirsty grins upon their faces and the way they clutched at their weapons.

It would be a bloodbath - this he knew without a shadow of a doubt. But that was neither here nor there, they were on a schedule and it would not do to be late.

"You know your orders," he began, his voice carrying in the silence. There was no need to be quiet anymore, they were alone on the beach. "We're here to acquire more stock, so don't get too carried away. We need them alive and kicking, but feel free to give them a few licks if they misbehave."

That last comment got a round of malicious laughter from the crew, some even going so far as to lick their lips in anticipation of the coming fight.

It was at this point that the captain motioned for Sven to step forward. The blonde did so without a word, looking over the gathered men before he spoke - a warning.

"Keep in mind that these are no ordinary people we're dealing with today. These are Fishmen, they're stronger than the average human so don't be careless, and as you may have already guessed, they have a natural affinity for water - do not let them get you near a body of water, and for the love of god, do not let them into the water." He told them, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Our main targets are the women and children, the men will be our main adversaries here, I don't expect them to come quietly, so keep your eyes open and don't lose focus. They might be a simple fishing village but they're not completely defenseless - remember that."

With a nod to his captain Sven stepped back and took his place beside Barkus, the lumbering man standing like a statue behind the captain, who had finished their briefing and was now splitting the crew into three groups.

With their orders clear and their objective ahead - they readied their weapons and moved out.

xxXXxx

It was some time later, when the dark sky had begun to lighten from dusk to dawn and the covering mist began to fade, that the slave traders crested the small hill that overlooked the peaceful little beach side village.

The village was a relatively small place compared to most - it was a fishing village through and through.

Nestled on the bank of a small cove, hidden away from plain sight by the rocky shoreline that surrounded it on both sides in the shape of a crescent moon, with the treeline and surrounding forests guarding the rear - it was a natural defense and the village had been built to take full advantage of this fact.

The village itself was built upon a multitude of weather worn, yet sturdy, walkways and raised platforms; the buildings, built from simple wood gathered from around the island, were clumped together in a haphazard yet decidedly neat fashion.

It was a quaint little place Sven decided as he gazed down that the sleeping town, his blue eyes sweeping across the horizon in search of any sign of movement below - it would do them no good to have their approach spotted too early, they needed to remain unseen until they were right on top of the unaware villagers.

Movement to his left had the blonde turning his attention to the captain who had moved up to kneel beside him, hidden from view behind the small rock formation they were currently using for cover.

"Time to go?" Sven asked, his tone light and conversational as though speaking about the weather.

The captain, Corric was his name, gave a nod of his head and silently raised a hand up to signal the waiting men who gathered behind them.

It was time to attack.

As the captain turned his calculating gaze from the unprotected village, shifting to rest his upon his eager crew, he began signaling the men to fan out and approach the village.

For his part, Sven stayed bedside his captain and awaited further instructions - he knew what needed to be done, but it was best to make sure there would be no change of plans before heading down.

Of course he needn't have worried.

Corric was a rather straightforward sort of man and he didn't often bother with fancy tactics or strategies. The reason for this was simple because as far as he was concerned - if it worked then don't change it; meaning that they had a system, and it worked well for them, so there was no point in changing it and risk failure.

If there was one thing Sven had come to understand in all his years working under the captain, it was that the man did not tolerate failure - at all.

In some ways Sven found that the captain was something of a perfectionist, and perhaps the reason for it could be chalked up to his captain's upbringing, but the blonde didn't question it, he didn't care why Corric did what he did - he was in this for the money same as everyone else.

Details like that didn't matter.

Shaken from his inner musings the blonde haired male refocused upon the matter at hand and with one last cocky grin directed at his captain, Sven hefted his sword into his grip and stood up.

"Move in." Corric grunted, shifting to his feet and claimed the sword at his hip with an eager expression upon his cleanly shaven face.

"Happy hunting, captain." Sven quipped, giving a lazy two-finger salute before he moved off to the side and silently broke away from the main force, signaling to the smaller group of men under his command as he went, before they slipped from the ridge and descend upon the village.

xxXXxx

Two and a half hours later the once peaceful village was in shambles.

Thrust into the depths of chaos as the slavers laid it to waste without a single care - dark smoke could be seen, rising up in thick plumes to block out the rising sun, all the while orange flickers of burning fire licked at the broken ruins of the buildings.

It was carnage.

The townsfolk were in a panic - the dead and dying littered the walkways; the bodies of men and women, even a few children, who were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire were strewn about.

Blood bathed the town - running freely through the cracks in the splintered, broken, planks and seeping into the smoldering wood, staining the waters below with a crimson touch.

Amidst the destruction were the dwindling sounds of battle; the echoing clash of steel upon steel, a last ditch effort launched by the few able bodied men and women still alive and free.

The battle was almost over however - the men and women of this small village were not trained for action like the merciless slavers they faced, and while their attempts to fight back were admirable, in the end it was a wasted endeavor.

For his part in the raid Corric had made good upon leading the main force to capture and subdue the freakish creatures - a task that was met, at first, with open hostility until he cut the opposition down without a second thought.

Now, with most of his men going through the town and systematically mopping up what was left if the stragglers under the careful eye of his first mate Barkus, the captain found that he was now free to loot the small town of all items with even a speck of value.

The town did not have much in the way of gold or other precious gems however, which was always a pity in his opinion, but they did have a few other items that Corric was sure would fetch a good price on the markets.

So he collected them, being careful not to break them, and sent the back to the ship to be sorted and stored away until they reached the East Blue again and he could pawn them off for a good price.

The whole endeavor took no more than perhaps half an hour, the village was honestly not that large and they lacked anything of real worth - but Corric would make do with what he had managed to find, he always did.

With the living cargo bound in chains, and the supplies looted from the villages stock, Corric felt that it was time to set sail back to more familiar waters - their work was done after all.

So he turned to leave, giving the call to his men that it was time to depart.

Rustle…

Corric paused in his trek through the now smoldering village, head cocked to one side as he strained his ears to listen for-

Rustle, rustle…

Ah, there it was again.

Moving forward on silent feet the captain picked his way through the wreckage of a nearby destroyed home, edging his way towards the source of the noise before crouching down to wait - posed like a cat ready to pounce.

He didn't wait long before the noise sounded again off to his right, closely followed by the sound of a muffled cough.

Corric felt the beginnings of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips - though the expression upon his face however was anything but kind.

It would seem they missed a straggler. He mused to himself in dark amusement, reaching down to his boot and gripping the handle of a small knife - a precaution, just in case the hidden wretch decided to fight back.

The captain needn't have worried about a possible attack though - for when he kicked the smoldering plank of wood from atop the pile of rubble, he was met with the sight of a small child fumbling around in the ashes of what was probably his home.

Snorting in disdain at the tiny creature huddled on the ground before him, Corric sheathed his weapon and strode forward. He took some amount of sadistic glee upon watching the small child, a boy probably no older than four years old, shuffle backwards with a terrified growl - trying to seem more threatening than he really was, the captain assumed.

It was laughable.

As amusing as it was to watch the tiny child hiss and growl at him, Corric didn't have time to waste playing around - they were on a schedule and it was going to take them a good few months to reach the East Blue from where they were now, so they needed to be on their way, and soon.

So he moved forward, reaching out a hand as he did and made to grab the boy. This of course caused an instant reaction in the child and before he knew it Corric was jerking back with a curse - the brat had bit him!

"You cheeky brat." He grunted, staring down at the red droplets of blood that welled up in the new wound on his hand with a mixture of annoyance and grudging approval - because at least the kid had guts.

But that wouldn't save the small child from the fate that awaited him, nothing short of a miracle would, and Corric was quickly running out of patience.

So the large man did what he usually did when dealing with unruly captives - he brought his leg back and then sent the sole of his leather boot straight into the child's face.

The reaction was instant - the child let out a shrill yelp before his eyes rolled back and he went limp.

The boy dropped to the floor in an unmoving heap; the grip he had upon a worn, and obviously well loved, stuffed shark loosened until the toy flopped onto the ground beside the unconscious boy.

Corric didn't bother checking to see if the kid was still breathing and instead the captain reached out to grab the child - he then turned and began the trek back to the ship, the limp form held under his arm.

Fifteen minutes later and Corric had arrived back on the beach where the ship was anchored.

He watched for a moment as his crew moved about - herding the former occupants of the village up the platform and onto the ship; they would be taken below deck and chained until they regrouped with the main fleet, where they would then be moved to the holding cells until they reached port.

Striding forward the captain gave a nod in greeting to his first mate. Without a word Corric threw the limp form to the burly man, a silent order to place the child with the rest of the cargo, before continuing his way up onto the ship.

"Alright men, let's push off - I want to be out of here before the authorities catch wind of what happened." He barked, his voice carrying over the noise of his crew.

"Aye, captain!"

With that the crew hurried to finish their preparations; storing the acquired goods they had liberated from the villagers, and making sure their guests were secured below deck.

That done they were finally able to shove off from the shoreline with the help of the growing tide - using the slowly rising waters to their advantage, and soon enough they were well at sea, leaving the island behind without a backwards glance.