10 Daddy got a new Stick
*POV: Arms Store*
*DING* *DING*
The chime above the door of Loguetown's "Arms Shop" barely registered in Ipponmatsu's sleep-fogged mind as he stirred from his midday nap. A mumbled greeting escaped his lips as the shop door creaked open. But what greeted him wasn't the usual gaggle of pirates looking for cheap pistols or rusty swords. This was different.
This was a figure that demanded attention. Towering easily over two meters, the newcomer moved with a slow grace that spoke of both confidence and contained power. His age was difficult to discern, his face hidden in part by the shadows cast by his hair. But the glint in his eyes, a flicker of something both hungry and focused, left little doubt about his purpose.
"Welcome!" Ipponmatsu managed, snapping fully awake and slipping into salesman mode. He rattled off his usual spiel, pointing towards the racks of weapons lining the walls. "Pistols, swords… top quality steel, all guaranteed to get the job done!"
The figure paused, tilting his head slightly as if considering the display. "I've heard whispers of… cursed blades. Do you have such things in your possession?" he rumbled, his voice surprisingly deep for his apparent youth.
Ipponmatsu froze. Cursed blades? Another one of those treasure hunters after the legendary swords he'd just sold to that moss-headed swordsman? He scoffed internally. "Sorry, kid," he said, a touch of condescension creeping into his voice. "Those were snatched up already. But hey, I've got some real top-notch blades right here. No curses, just good old-fashioned steel!"
The newcomer ignored the blatant dismissal. "Just show me your best one," he stated, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument.
Ipponmatsu sighed, defeated. This kid was clearly serious, but did he really have the strength to handle a top-tier blade? Shaking his head, he shuffled towards a back room, his eyes scanning the shelves for his most prized possession. Returning a moment later, he carefully placed a sheathed sword on the counter.
"Here you go," he muttered, eyeing the newcomer with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "Two million Beri, sheath included."
The tall man reached out, his hand engulfing the hilt. With a single, fluid motion, he drew the blade. The moment the steel was freed, the air crackled. An aura of raw power, honed by countless battles, erupted from the newcomer, sending a shiver down Ipponmatsu's spine. It was as if a terrifying predator had revealed itself, a creature forged in the fires of war.
"This," he boomed, a glint in his eyes, "this is a good sword!" He tossed a pouch of Beri on the counter, the weight confirming his earlier statement about being in a hurry. "Consider it purchased."
Before Ipponmatsu could stammer a single word in response, a flicker of darkness engulfed the figure. One moment he was there, radiating an aura of barely contained power. The next, the shop was empty, the silence broken only by the soft clinking of coins on the wooden counter.
Ipponmatsu stared, dumbfounded, at the empty space where the man once stood. Had he imagined the entire encounter? The weight of the pouch and the undeniable presence of the aura lingered, proof that this wasn't some bizarre dream. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind still reeling.
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*POV: MC*
Kasper hefted the new katana in his hand, the black sheath cool and smooth against his palm. He drew the blade slowly, revealing a crimson surface that shimmered with an almost imperceptible power in the sunlight. Ancient symbols, barely visible to the naked eye, snaked along the length of the steel. Despite its outward simplicity, this was no ordinary weapon; it was a sleeping beast waiting for the right hand to unleash its potential.
A sense of anticipation thrummed within him as he wandered the streets of Loguetown. The old town, with its sturdy buildings and weathered facades, held a certain charm. His steps led him towards the gallows, the infamous landmark where Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King, met his end. A morbid curiosity tugged at him, but even from a distance, he could see a crowd gathering, their faces a mixture of awe and trepidation.
As he stood there, his gaze fell upon a figure that stood out from the throng – a Marine Captain radiating an aura of power and authority. Smoker, the legendary White Hunter, puffed on a cigar, his stern face and imposing physique leaving no room for doubt about his rank. He was the embodiment of Marine justice, a force to be reckoned with.
Suddenly, Smoker turned, his sharp eyes locking with Kasper's. Kasper felt a jolt – the Marine Captain's gaze was like a physical force, assessing, calculating. He met Smoker's stare head-on, his own eyes glinting with a challenge.
Smoker ambled over, his movements measured and deliberate. "Well, lookie here," he rumbled, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Been admiring the view a little too long, haven't you? Pirate scum or wannabe Marine? Spit it out, kid."
Kasper smirked, a slow, irritating spread across his face. "Neither, Captain Smoker," he replied, his voice devoid of deference. "Just a curious onlooker. Heard a lot of whispers about you, that's all."
Smoker scoffed, a plume of smoke curling from his lips. "A wet-nosed pup like you wouldn't know justice if it bit him on the backside. You think you can waltz in here and mock the Marines? Why don't you just enlist? Learn how to fight for the right side of the law."
Kasper's eyes narrowed. Smoker's words were a veiled threat, an attempt to box him into a corner. But Kasper wouldn't be manipulated. "The 'right side' of the law, huh? And who decides what that is, Smoker? The World Government? I don't answer to anyone but myself."
A flicker of anger sparked in Smoker's eyes. Kasper's defiance, his thinly veiled mockery, was grating on him. He took a long drag on his cigar, the glowing ember pulsing like a malevolent eye.
"Alright, pipsqueak," Smoker growled, his voice thick with disdain. "You wanna play? Fine. Let's see if you can back up your big talk." He flicked his cigar away, the embers disappearing into the dirt. "Follow me. There's a clearing just outside of town where I can teach you some manners… and maybe convince you to join the Marines while I'm at it. We're always looking for new recruits, even arrogant ones."
Kasper's lips curved into a sly grin. This was exactly the reaction he'd hoped for. He trailed after Smoker, the prospect of a fight against the Marine Captain sending a thrill through him.
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They arrived at a secluded clearing, a circle of tall trees providing a ring for their impromptu duel. Smoker, towering over Kasper, puffed out a final plume of smoke before flicking the cigar butt away. His voice, when he spoke, was laced with a patronizing edge.
"Alright, kid," he rumbled. "Let's see what you've got. Don't say I didn't warn you – underestimate the Marines at your peril."
Kasper couldn't help but smirk. Smoker's condescension was practically dripping off him, but the young man wasn't fazed. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that his standard attacks wouldn't land a scratch on the Logia user. No, his goal here wasn't victory; it was something far more valuable – the awakening of Haki.
Years on the island had provided him with ample opportunity to train his body, honing his physical prowess to its peak. But Haki, that coveted power, remained elusive. He believed traditional training wouldn't be enough; he needed the crucible of a real fight, a life-or-death situation to push him to the brink and unlock his potential.
And who better to provide that push than the mighty Smoker?
"Here I come, Smoker!" he declared, his voice ringing with a challenge. With a mighty stomp that cracked the earth beneath him, he launched himself towards the Marine Captain. His fist, aimed squarely at Smoker's face, connected with a solid thud… only to pass harmlessly through the swirling smoke.
Smoker remained unfazed, a plume of smoke curling from his lips. "See, kid? This is the power of the Moku Moku no Mi. Your attacks are as useless as… well, as trying to punch a cloud." He lunged forward, his fist transforming into a swirling vortex of smoke as he aimed a powerful blow at Kasper.
Kasper reacted with lightning speed, dropping to the ground in a crouch just as Smoker's attack sailed harmlessly above. He twisted, propelled himself upwards with a powerful leg thrust, and unleashed a roundhouse kick aimed at Smoker's midsection. But once again, his leg passed through the intangible smoke, leaving Smoker untouched.
Undeterred, Kasper pressed the attack. A flurry of punches and kicks followed, each strike a blur of controlled chaos. He weaved and dodged around Smoker's assault, his movements precise and deadly. He was a whirlwind of controlled fury, a predator testing the limits of his prey.
Despite the relentless assault, Smoker remained an apparition, his body impervious to Kasper's physical attacks. A frustrated growl escaped Kasper's lips. This was exactly the situation he needed, the pressure of a real fight, but frustration wouldn't unlock Haki. He needed focus, determination.
Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, Kasper visualized a scene from his past – a memory of a powerful Haki user, their body cloaked in an invisible armor. He focused on the feeling, the surge of power, and willed it to manifest within himself. He gritted his teeth, pushing his body and mind to their absolute limits.
*DING*
A tingling sensation spread through his limbs, a feeling of immense pressure building within. He opened his eyes, a spark of determination glinting within them.
His hands… were different. They were no longer bare flesh, but seemed to be encased in a thin, invisible layer of… something. It pulsed with a subtle energy, an aura that felt both protective and potent. A surge of elation washed over him. He had done it. He had unlocked Armament Haki.
[Host has assimilated the fundamentals of Armament Haki. Owing to his innate adaptive trait, as well as enlightenment within combat.]
A warmth, almost like a current, surged through Kasper's body. It was as if his very being was attuning itself to the intricacies of Armament Haki, an innate understanding blossoming deep within him. Driven by the primal urge for survival, his body underwent a subtle transformation. He recognized it – the key to mastering this Haki was now within his grasp.
"Give it up, kid," Smoker rumbled, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "There's no point in this. All you'll get is pain, and I won't even feel it."
Kasper grinned – a wide, feral expression that sent a shiver down Smoker's spine. "You're right, Smoker," he said, his voice tinged with newfound confidence. "Before, I had no chance. But that's changed."
He launched himself forward once more, but this time, his hands remained open. Only his index fingers extended, each one now radiating a dark, inky aura that was invisible to Smoker's eyes. As he landed in front of the Marine Captain, Kasper's fingers darted out like vipers, striking with pinpoint precision.
Smoker's eyes widened in disbelief as a jolt of searing pain erupted from his shoulder. It felt like Kasper had driven a red-hot poker through him, yet all he'd seen was a gentle touch. His right arm went limp, hanging uselessly at his side. "What… how?" he sputtered, his voice laced with a mixture of shock and anger.
"Didn't know before," Kasper chuckled, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. "But I dooooo~ now!"
Before Smoker could react further, the clearing erupted into a whirlwind of attacks flew. Kasper moved with a newfound grace, his fingers flashing out like deadly strikes. Each attack was precise, targeting nerves and pressure points with pinpoint accuracy. Smoker, his body a frustratingly intangible mass of smoke moments ago, found himself groaning in pain as his limbs buckled one by one. Kasper's Haki, though newly awakened, bypassed the smoke and struck directly at the Marine Captain's physical form.
With a final, well-placed strike to Smoker's knee, Kasper stepped back, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like the victory goes to me this time, Smoker," he declared. "And let me guess – the Marines wouldn't have been much help teaching me this, would they? Thanks for the… enlightening sparring session. Oh, and don't worry about the injuries; they should wear off in a couple of hours, give or take. See ya 'round!"
With a playful wave and a light skip in his step, Kasper turned and walked away, leaving a bewildered and defeated Smoker sprawled on the ground. The legendary White Hunter, brought low by a rookie with a newfound power and a mischievous glint in his eye. It was a scene Smoker wouldn't soon forget.
*DING*
[Host has defeated Captain Smoker in a fair duel. Awarding Host 1 Free Technique Coupon and Gravity Ring.]
