Vane spent an extra five million Belly and bought half the lives of the most arrogant and overbearing clerks in the slave shop. These were the ones with the worst tempers and the cruelest methods in the shop, who would whip slaves at the slightest provocation.
When the Fish-Men had just been sold here, they'd taken no small amount of whipping from them. Because Fish-Men are more resistant to beatings and a few lashes wouldn't cause trouble, the shop owner didn't bother to stop it.
The shop owner then turned around and sold them. That was five million Belly! What were a few clerks worth? If he weren't afraid of the pain, he could have gone up himself and taken a few lashes.
Pa! Pa! Pa ya!
The first Fish-Man swung the whip in his hand. The first strike was a little cautious, not daring to use too much force. The second, the third… a look of pure satisfaction appeared on the Fish-Man's face. He wanted to whip back all the humiliation he'd suffered these days.
The clothes on the whipped clerk were quickly shredded into rags. Because his mouth was gagged, he could only writhe on the ground like a shrimp.
Eleven! Twelve… It's over! It's over! He counted clearly the number of times the whip landed on his body. They had agreed on only ten lashes, but the first Fish-Man couldn't control himself and didn't stop until he'd lashed fifteen or sixteen times.
Vane didn't mind. The shop owner didn't mind either. They wouldn't fuss over how many times the Fish-Men whipped—one just wanted them to vent, the other just wanted to count money.
With the first Fish-Man setting the example, the other Fish-Men showed no restraint when they struck, laying into the clerks with vicious whipping. And not a single one honestly kept to the ten-lash agreement. The most extreme whipped nearly twenty times and directly whipped a man until he stopped breathing.
At first, the tied-up clerks were all praying they wouldn't be whipped first. But as the Fish-Men finished one by one, the clerks in the back instead hoped they'd be whipped quickly—anything but being last.
Because the last one was Big Pan.
A twelve-year-old by actual age, over four meters tall, just entering puberty—anyone who saw him would have to ask, "Is this damn guy really 12?"
When the whip got into his hands, it was like a slightly bigger rubber band.
Big Pan smiled a little foolishly and said, "I'm very trustworthy. I'll only do ten lashes, not one more."
The last clerk: "..."
He'd rather take thirty lashes from the Fish-Men before him than take ten from Big Pan.
But he had no choice. Big Pan had already raised the whip and started whipping.
Worthy of Big Pan, who had giant-tribe genes—when the whip came down, it was like cracking a spinning top. The person hit rolled several times across the ground.
By the fifth lash, the man rolled his eyes and passed out.
There was no fun in whipping someone who was already unconscious. Big Pan looked at Vane and asked,
"Can I whip those who aren't out yet?"
Vane was very happy that Big Pan asked for his opinion. This was a very good sign.
"Of course. That's the right of my crew."
Vane showed the generosity befitting a captain—the boss of the crew.
...
"From now on you're my crew, meow."
Meowth lay on Big Pan's towering shoulder and, as usual, carried out its "brainwashing" of the newcomer.
As a cat, it quite liked these "humans" who carried a fishy smell.
The Fish-Men accepted the novelty of a talking cat very quickly. After all, everything on land had been unknown to them before they came ashore, existing only in descriptions in books.
Perhaps some cats are naturally able to talk—it's just that the people who wrote the books never met one.
"Okay, Boss Meowth."
"Very good, meow. Big guy, I think you've got a lot of promise. Come build ships with me, meow."
This was a guy over four meters tall. Even the tallest Tant beastman only came to a bit over three meters. Labor like this was extremely valuable.
The Fish-Men said, "Big Pan can grow to over ten meters tall in the future."
"His father is from the giant tribe."
"Those stupid humans even thought Big Pan was a genetic mutant monster."
Meowth: "Over ten meters… promising!"
In the future, being able to sit on the shoulder of a guy over ten meters tall—how impressive that would be as a way to get around.
Not long after Vane and the others left the slave shop, a somewhat bloated pirate with an onion-shaped head walked into the shop.
"Boss, got any high-quality slaves? This great man Foxy needs manpower for going to sea!"
...
Abandoned Yard Camp.
The Rocket Team held a grand party to welcome the new members and, at the same time, established an underwater combat unit. The captain was Big Pan, and the members were naturally the five loach Fish-Men.
With Fish-Men around, things at sea really did become much more convenient. If Devil Fruit users fell into the sea, Fish-Men could quickly rescue them.
At the same time, Fish-Men could also go and drill into other people's hulls. Ordinary pirates simply couldn't defend against this method. Losing a ship in the vast ocean meant the chances of survival were vanishingly small.
Meowth: "Eat more, eat more—grow to over ten meters tall quickly, meow."
"He's drunk. Look, this Fish-Man is so weak—one bottle and he's done."
"Huh, Fish-Men even eat fish?"
"We're Fish-Men, not fish. Of course we eat fish."
A joyful bonfire feast—good wine and good food are two great treasures for making a team more harmonious.
Mutual discrimination easily arises between humans and Fish-Men. Fortunately, most of Vane's team had gone through Meowth's "brainwashing" and advocated "world peace," with fairly strong tolerance.
After the ruckus at the slave shop, the Fish-Men also rather trusted Vane as the "savior" who had rescued them and given them freedom. When the two groups came together, they blended very smoothly.
"What's with you two?"
Vane looked at Bonez and Tant, both bruised and swollen to the point they hardly looked human anymore. He hadn't noticed when they got back; he only realized when the two of them came out to eat.
"Just the pain you have to go through in training."
"That's right, leader. I feel like I've become stronger."
Vane knew Tant was a workaholic. Bonez becoming this diligent was probably because he felt some sense of crisis. After all, the position Vane had given him in the team was second only to Vane himself.
If he didn't have enough strength, then he wasn't qualified to occupy such a high position.
Bonez told Vane his idea for getting stronger, believing that he still had room to improve in defense.
Bonez isn't a swordsman; he's an assassin.
If he had talent in swordsmanship, Vane would unhesitatingly veto his development idea and force him to develop in the direction of the Hawk Eyes that Vegapunk created.
Unfortunately, Bonez doesn't have that kind of talent, so he can only try other paths of development.
"Your idea isn't wrong. After all, there are differences even among metals. But you can't focus only on defense. If you can only take hits passively, you're just a punching bag."
"You also need to improve your strength. If you have enough strength and defense, then in the future you might not need to do anything fancy—just charge forward and crush all obstacles in your path."
Developing the Dice-Dice Fruit toward defense, its natural conditions definitely aren't as good as Diamond Jozu of the Twinkle-Twinkle Fruit. But being able to turn his body into blades can make him a walking grinder, with tremendous killing power.