Wine for Your Sake [Zoro x OC]

2. The Breadwinner

(POV: Juniper) - 13 years ago

They are all the same to me. Greedy faces - always craving more, demanding more, and taking more. A middle-aged man with a face that's somehow wrinkled and chiseled at the same time stares at me. He can't be any different.

He rubs his chin. "How old is she?"

"Seven years old," the seller replies. "Although she's been sold three times before, she's in perfect condition as you can see."

He studies me for a moment before handing the seller a large briefcase. "I'll take her."

"While I'm counting this, here is the contract," the seller says. "Please sign your name here."

The old man grumbles. "This is the black market. Why do I need to sign this overly detailed contract to buy a girl?"

"You don't know?" The seller smiles, setting a firm hand on my shoulder. "She's a special product. Admiral Fujitora's daughter."

"What?!" The man shouts. "How could that be possible..?"

He trails off, mumbling some incomprehensible words to himself. Finally, he signs the paper and throws it at the seller's chest.

"The money looks good. She's all yours," the seller chimes, giving the old man the chain to my collar. "Do you want the collar on or off? I suggest keeping it-"

"Take it off," he interrupts.

The seller shoots him a hesitant look. "Eh... if you say so."

He pulls out a key and unlocks the metal band wrapped around my neck. Now's my opportunity. I ball up my fist, slamming it hard into the seller's balls. While he doubles over and groans in agony, I leap in the opposite direction and sprint down the bustling market.

Before I can even register his movement in my mind, the old man has somehow caught up to me and is now firmly snatching my arm.

"Let me go, you old man!" I wail, biting down on his large knuckle.

He winces. "Cut that out. And I'm not old!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

Without much effort, he lifts me into the air and starts walking down the way I came from. I push at his hand in an attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, but it proves useless. I'm left to dangle.

"My arm hurts," I whine after ten minutes pass.

He tosses me up, catching me by the other arm. "Better?"

"Put me down!"

"So you prefer me to drag you through the ground?"

"No! Let me go!"

He chuckles. "I don't think I will."

I feel my oversized leg warmers slip off more and more with every step he takes. By the time he reaches a huge mansion, they fall completely off and catch dirt on the ground.

"What a pain," he says, reaching over to collect them. "Why are you wearing these leg warmers when it's so hot..."

The realization sets in when his eyes rest on my legs. A compilation of gashes and scars are now exposed - the older cuts being closer to my feet and the fresher ones running up to my knees.

"That damn seller lied to me," he mumbles while twirling me around like a roasted duck.

"What the hell are you looking at?!" I growl. "Put them back on!"