Though the name "Little Eagle Flying Knife" sounded like something from a street vendor's fantasy, the blade itself was undeniably sharp. As a "treasure of the town shop," it deserved some respect.
To prove its worth to the skeptical pirate captain, Vivi combined her innate Baroque Works "Chain Manipulation" style with her precise throwing weapon mastery, launching it with a flick of her wrist.
A flash of silver light streaked through the air. At thirty meters away, a tree as thick as a dinner bowl was cleaved cleanly in two, its top half tumbling with a soft thud.
The motion was fast, precise, and brutally elegant. Vivi's wrist twisted again—her tail finger tugging a near-invisible silk thread—and the flying knife reversed course, describing a graceful arc before returning to her grip.
This technique was a legacy from her past life, refined further by combat experience gained after grinding through countless Baroque missions. It was called "Peacock Chainsaw," a mid-range retrieval strike she had weaponized further. Though she wasn't on the level of a Marine Admiral or Yonko, her improved stats meant the move radiated killing intent to the lower-tier pirate crew.
"Captain Baby" flinched, hand flying to his longsword instinctively. Around him, his underlings shifted nervously, some even glancing toward the alleyways, clearly thinking about escape routes.
"Oh, hoho—relax, relax," Vivi smiled disarmingly, raising one hand. "That was just a demo. Now that you've seen what this little eagle knife can do, how about making it yours?" She gestured toward a large placard nearby bearing the words Prince Magical Items and Special Treasures. "We're a legitimate shop here, you know. No swindling."
Her calm poise and the blade's impressive performance worked wonders. After haggling that barely deserved the term, the pirate captain grudgingly handed over 1.8 million Berries for the knife, mumbling something about using it for "dueling rookies."
Once he opened his purse, the rest of the pirates began milling around with more interest.
A large man—easily 300 pounds and more belly than muscle—pointed at a frayed coil on a dusty shelf. "Hey, what's that? Looks like a chewed-up rope."
Vivi's face grew solemn. "That," she said reverently, "is the last of the three anchor cables used by the Golden Lion Shiki during the Battle of Edd War, near the Aite Wall. You're looking at history. It still echoes with the clash of that sky-battle."
The pirates squinted, listening hard. What they didn't know was that Vivi had started stomping lightly in rhythm—creating faint echoes under the wooden floorboards. Combined with the distant waves and town noise, it gave the illusion of distant cannon fire.
"And rumor has it," Vivi whispered, drawing them closer, "that when Shiki was defeated by the Pirate King Gol D. Roger, he carved the coordinates of one of his treasure vaults into that very cable."
History meant little to common pirates, but treasure? That was another matter. Eyes gleamed with greed as imaginations ran wild.
"Eh?" Another pirate pointed at an old, tattered umbrella hanging overhead. "That junk too?"
Vivi blinked, as if surprised by his good eye. "That's no ordinary umbrella. That's Redfield's parasol—the one he used to counter Admiral Kong during their clash near the Red Line decades ago. You know Red the Aloof? Escaped Impel Down alone. Fought Sengoku and Garp at the same time."
The crew was stunned. Redfield was a legend, albeit one not as often spoken of anymore. If what she said was true, this parasol could be worth millions.
"And this..." said a thin pirate, pointing to a balled-up gray tuft the size of a fist. "Rabbit hair?"
"No," Vivi said, voice turning mysteriously solemn. "That is the left hind paw of the Lucky Rabbit. Once owned by Red-Haired Shanks himself. Not long after he lost it, a Sea King took his arm. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What kind of protection it once offered... and what happened when he gave it up?"
Vivi wasn't afraid of someone challenging the validity of her claims. Let them come. What did it matter if she invoked the names of Emperors? If anyone complained, she'd play the innocent Miss Wednesday. If they still pressed, well—let them go complain to Sir Crocodile. She had Baroque Works backing.
Emboldened by both alcohol and superstition, the pirates emptied their pockets. To them, even garbage could become gold if connected to a legend. In Vivi's hands, broken trinkets became "famed relics" or "mementos of pirate kings."
Despite the Baroque Works claiming ownership over everything on the seized ship, there was an unspoken rule among bounty agents—what you sold before the haul was claimed was yours to keep. Vivi emptied their wallets with a cheerful smile, knowing full well the items would "mysteriously" return to the storehouse in Whiskey Peak by nightfall.
The tattered cable and umbrella sold for 900,000 and 1.2 million Berries respectively. But the true cash magnet was the rabbit foot. The younger pirates didn't know Shiki or Redfield, but Shanks? He was current. He was real. And pirates are nothing if not superstitious.
"One-time offer," Vivi said dramatically. "Three hundred thousand Berries."
The pirates stared at the worn fuzzball like it was divine treasure.
Even the less-desirable items were bundled into a "Prince's Value Adventure Pack," which included chipped knives, worn bandages, and old scraps of maps. At 10,000 Berries a pop, 19 sold in less than five minutes.
"Oh-hohoho—" Vivi laughed behind her hand while Kalu, her loyal Super Spot-Billed Duck, crouched and rapidly counted coins.
Of course, not every pirate had pockets full of cash, and Vivi understood business. She would never turn away a customer just because they were broke.
"Now, now," she cooed. "For those brave warriors of the sea temporarily light on coin, we offer a very special opportunity. All about making money—for you!"
With a gesture, her subordinates rolled out two polished suitcases, each bursting with crisp 10,000-Berry notes stacked like dominoes.
"Here's how it works," Vivi grinned. "We play the Paper Game. Each person gets a paper bag. If your bag knocks ours over, you win 10,000 Berries. If you lose, well, we take a light forfeit—a little slap from me. Not hard. Just a tap. It's a game, after all. Doesn't hurt much, and hey—not too insulting either. You get it? Simple rules. So… are you ready to change your fate?"
The pirates roared in approval, laughter and shouting mixing with the crash of waves and the glitter of coins.
After all, who could resist a gamble when the price of losing was just a slap—and the reward was a small fortune?
And so the game began, paper bags fluttering in the wind, money flying, and pirates slapping and laughing in a strangely festive battlefield of fools.