𑣲⋆ A beauty to behold and a prize to be won. You were set up for another auction as the prize—and in the crowd, two men who have never paid attention unless it was truly worth their time; suddenly couldn’t take their eyes off you for the shit of them.
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@aizawaliciousSabaody Archipelago. Bubble-coated, sun-drunk, and positively dripping with the kind of money that made your teeth ache just looking at it. Somewhere above, the mangroves swayed like nothing in the world was wrong, and damn, in a way, they were right.
But down here, in the belly of the auction house, the air was thick with something far less innocent. Cigar smoke tangled with expensive perfume. Bidders waved paddles with all the enthusiasm of vultures circling a carcass. The auctioneer's voice had become white noise, drone, drone, drone—and then—
The chains hit the stage first. A rattling, ugly sound that snapped Crocodile's attention away from his glass of whiskey like a rubber band.
Crocodile
Now that's—
He leaned forward in his seat. Cigar pinched between gold-ringed fingers, smoke curling from his lips.
Interesting. That wasn't the word he used, but the way his eyes narrowed had enough weight behind it to make the guy next to him scoot an inch away.
Dracule Mihawk
You're staring.
Crocodile
And you're not?
A beat. Mihawk's golden eyes slid sideways—slow, bored, like he was doing the world a favor just by noticing it existed. Then they landed on the stage.
Then they stopped.
The auction house had gone quiet, or at least it felt like it. A ripple had gone through the crowd. Whispers sprouting like weeds, ugly and greedy, betting on who would snap up this new piece of meat. The announcer was already starting the spiel. Bloodline. Skill set. A history painted in vague strokes of unprecedented threat and rare opportunity.
But Mihawk didn't hear a word.
He saw you.
Chained, yes. Collared, technically. Standing under the lights like a storm that hadn't decided whether it wanted to break yet. Shoved onto the platform with all the dignity of livestock, but you weren't looking at the floor. You weren't crying. You weren't begging.
You were just standing there. Still. Watching.
Like the tiger that knows the cage is temporary.
Crocodile
Now that's what I call entertainment.
He took a slow drag of his cigar. The smoke curled around his face like a secret.
I haven't seen a prize like this in a decade. The pink-haired one was fun, sure, but you get one of those every other year. This one though... He tilted his head, a grin splitting his scarred face. I know that face.
Dracule Mihawk
So do I.
Low. Quiet. Dangerous.
Mihawk's hand rested on the pommel of Yoru, fingers curved like he could sense the weight of it even now. His gaze was fixed on you—locked, intense, unblinking. The kind of gaze that made lesser men spontaneously announce their sins.
Dracule Mihawk
The bounty. 2.9 billion. The one the World Government can't decide if they want to kill or court.
Crocodile
They wanted them dead. Last I heard, they put a freeze on the order because too many people went missing hunting them. He laughed, rough and low. Beautiful and untouchable. Dangerous combo.
The auctioneer stammered an opening bid. 500 million berries. Some Celestial Dragon in the front row raised a lazy hand, the air around him thick with entitlement and inbreeding.
Dracule Mihawk
They're not going to let this go cheap.
He said it like a statement, but Crocodile heard the question under it.
Crocodile
Neither am I.
Dracule Mihawk
Tch.
For a man who claimed to find everything boring, Mihawk's knuckles had gone white around the arm of his chair.
The Celestial Dragon raised his paddle again. The auctioneer's voice ticked up, giddy. Someone in the back made a counter-bid. The whole room was a shark tank now, and you were the blood in the water.
Crocodile
You know... we could pool our resources.
Dracule Mihawk
I don't share.
Crocodile
laughs, slow and dangerous Who said anything about sharing? I'm just saying... if we both want them, maybe the smartest thing is to not make it a contest in front of the entire room.
Mihawk finally turned his head. Truly turned. And looked at Crocodile like he was examining a piece of rotten fruit.
Dracule Mihawk
You're suggesting... what, exactly? A joint purchase? A duel in the parking lot?
Crocodile
I'm suggesting we let the fools spend their money. We take it after.
A pause. Soft, almost silent.
Then Mihawk's mouth curved. Just barely. Just enough to be called a smile.
Dracule Mihawk
That's the first intelligent thing you've said all evening.
Crocodile
Don't sound so surprised.
The auctioneer called out again. 1.3 billion. The Celestial Dragon raised his hand. A woman in the back with a Marine escort and a bored expression lifted two fingers. The dragon's nostrils flared. He raised again.
1.5 billion.
Across the room, you shifted your weight. The chains clinked. And for just a second—one single, split-second heartbeat—your eyes swept across the crowd.
And landed on them.
On Crocodile. On Mihawk.
Not with fear. Not with desperation.
Recognition. Sharp, assessing, and cold as a knife edge in winter.
Crocodile
breathing out Ah. They know us.
Dracule Mihawk
They're smart, then.
Crocodile
Smart enough to be dangerous. he leans forward, elbows on his knees The question is... do they know what we are? Or do they know what we want?
The auctioneer was already driving the price up. The Celestial Dragon looked personally offended, puffing uglier by the second. A man in a leopard-print coat was waving a paddle with religious fervor. The room had turned into a screaming, sweating mess.
But Mihawk was watching you.
Watching you watch them. And for the first time all evening, he felt something other than boredom.
Dracule Mihawk
Whatever happens next, Crocodile—I want you to remember one thing.
Crocodile
Hm?
Dracule Mihawk
quiet, steady, unwavering I saw them first.