Kuma, the Buccaneer brat who had escaped from his cage, was now being brutally beaten by several people. They struck him over and over, venting their fear and frustration as they tried to subdue him. They weren't hitting him out of hatred, but out of desperation. They needed to bring him back, or face the punishment that awaited them all.
"No! I won't go back!" Kuma cried out, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't take it anymore!"
A boy with a baseball bat smashed it into Kuma's side, the thud echoing through the woods. Kuma gasped and collapsed, bruised and bloodied, but still refusing to give in. Eventually, after minutes of relentless beating, he lay motionless on the ground, panting and half-conscious.
As they started dragging him back, one of the men spoke bitterly.
"How selfish can you be? Don't you know they group us into tens to punish us? If even one escapes, they kill the rest of the group!"
The others nodded grimly. To them, survival was a numbers game. And Kuma had just endangered them all.
But then, from a distance, a loud, bizarre shout broke the grim silence:
"HEEEEEEEE-HAAWWWWWW! Hold it right there!"
Everyone froze, startled. Footsteps echoed quickly, growing louder by the second. The group turned their heads toward a nearby hill.
Two figures stood at the crest: a violet-haired boy and a pink-haired girl gnawing on a hunk of meat.
"Are you the main feature of this event? The Buccaneer boy?" the boy asked, pointing at Kuma.
The group stared up, stunned by their sudden appearance.
"You sure are big," the boy continued. "I heard you carry the blood of the Giants!"
"My big brother's pretty big too, don't you think?" the girl added with a giggle, still munching casually.
"Only my head's that big—wait, shut up," the boy muttered, irritated by his sister's teasing.
Their casual banter contrasted sharply with the tense situation. The people below could hardly believe what they were seeing.
"You all look miserable," the boy said suddenly. "Are you enjoying life?"
"Shut up, brat!" one of the men snapped, not liking the tone in the boy's voice.
"Oh? You guys... do you want to die, or do you want to live?" the girl asked sweetly, her smile chilling despite its innocence.
"Yes! I, for one, want to live," the boy replied immediately. "Now, what are you gonna do?"
Kuma, still weak and bruised, looked at the strange pair with wide eyes. There was something powerful about their energy—something rebellious, something... free.
"My name is Ivankov," the boy announced. "This is my little sister, Ginny. And we've got a plan to escape."
The group went quiet. Ivankov and Ginny's confidence was contagious—and dangerous.
"Hahhh... I've never seen so many ships in one place," Ivankov said, scanning the horizon. "Now you can see it with your own eyes. We're trapped in this hellish reality. No one will escape—and someday, this place will be wiped from history."
"They chose this island for their little murder festival," he continued, "all so they could take the natural resources here. 100,000 civilians branded as 'rabbits' for their hunt. Not a single one will be alive in three weeks. Can you believe that? How is this world fair?"
"But... they said we'd be freed if we survived the three weeks," someone protested weakly.
Ivankov scoffed. "Like hell you will. In all their previous hunts, there were exactly zero survivors."
"What? Then why lie to us? Why give us false hope?" another asked, disturbed.
"There's no thrill in killing people who've already given up," Ivankov explained. "They want you to run. They want to chase. You'll never win if you play their rigged game. The only way out is to escape it altogether."
A moment of silence. Then someone finally spoke up:
"All right. We're in. We'll help with your escape plan."
Ivankov and Ginny nodded, then walked over to a Fish-Man who resembled a shark.
"You're a Shark Fish-Man, right? That means strong jaws," Ivankov said. "Can you bite these shackles off?"
Without a word, the Fish-Man bent down and chomped down on Ivankov's shackles. With a sharp snap, the metal broke.
"Alright! They came off! That's one powerful jaw!" Ivankov exclaimed, beaming. The Fish-Man moved to Ginny and did the same.
"Ah, thank you," Ginny said warmly. "I've never been praised like that," the Fish-Man muttered, clearly surprised.
"Now, tell us the plan," one of the freed slaves asked.
"The tournament prizes are the key to our escape," Ginny replied.
"The prizes?" someone echoed in confusion.
"They've got a Devil Fruit that can turn someone into an Azure Dragon," Ginny explained. "And the Paw-Paw Fruit—it can blast you and others to distant islands!"
"If any of us get one of those fruits," Ivankov added, "we can break out of this hell and bypass the Navy's blockade. There are only a dozen of us—but we can make it work."
"But the prizes are kept at the very center of the island," someone said nervously. "It's impossible."
"I'm a pro thief and wiretapper," Ginny declared. "Two weeks ago, I leaked all this info to the outside world. I know someone heard me. And a plan like this? It needs decoys."
That word hung in the air: decoys. Nobody spoke. Fear silenced them. They knew what that meant.
But then, Kuma—broken, bleeding, and brave—raised his hand.
"I can help with that," he said.
"Kuma?" Ivankov looked at him in surprise.
"My size and bulk... it'll help me last longer than most. I'll draw attention. Give you a chance."
There was a small smile on Kuma's face. As if, for the first time, he'd found something worth fighting for.
"I'd hate to see anyone die when we attempt this," Ginny said softly.
Suddenly, a new voice echoed around them:
"No one has to die."
They all looked around in panic, confused. Someone had spoken—but they saw no one.
Then, slowly, a figure shimmered into view. A young man appeared as if from thin air.
"Yo. I'm Koa," he said, a calm smile on his face. "And I'd love to help you escape."