Location: Organ Island (Orange Town), East Blue Year: 1520
The wind on Organ Island sang. It wasn't a metaphor; the architecture of the town, with its peculiar hollow spires and slated roofs, turned the sea breeze into a low, melodic hum. It was a peaceful sound, but to Hiroki, it sounded like distraction.
He sat cross-legged on the roof of a small inn, Umitsubame resting across his knees.
Inhale. Exhale.
He wasn't sleeping. He was listening.
[Training Active: Meditation][Observation Haki Proficiency: 0.4% → 0.45%]
Progress was agonizingly slow. The interface quantified his growth, which was motivating, but it also highlighted just how far he was from the peak. 0.45%. He wasn't even at one percent of the mastery required to sense intent clearly, let alone see the future like a certain mochi-man in the New World.
"Help! Someone stop him!"
The scream shattered his focus. The interface flickered off.
Hiroki sighed, standing up. The melody of the town was replaced by the chaotic clatter of overturned carts and terrified shouting.
He looked down into the square below. A man was rampaging—not a drunk pirate this time, but something more dangerous. He was tall, gaunt, wielding a long, flexible spear with a silver tip. He moved with a fluidity that suggested formal training, stabbing at shop signs and terrifying civilians.
"Bring me the Mayor!" the spearman shrieked. "This town owes tribute to the Silver Spear!"
Hiroki's eyes narrowed.
[Tactical Insight Active]
Target: "Silver Spear" Doran.Bounty: 4,500,000 Berries.Style: Mid-range distinct polearm. High agility.Threat Assessment: Moderate.
Four and a half million. A step up from Kargo.
Hiroki didn't take the stairs. He stepped off the roof, dropping two stories. He landed silently, bending his knees to absorb the impact—Ironwood training paying off.
The crowd parted as he walked toward the center of the square.
Doran spun around, his spear whipping through the air with a whistle that cut through the town's hum. He spotted Hiroki.
"Another hero?" Doran sneered, his eyes bloodshot. "Or just a kid with a fancy sword?"
Hiroki didn't answer. He rested his hand on the hilt of Umitsubame. The blue lacquer felt cool against his palm.
"Leave the town," Hiroki said. It was becoming his catchphrase. Simple. Direct.
Doran laughed, a high-pitched, grating sound. "I like you. You're quiet. You'll die quietly too."
Doran lunged.
It wasn't a clumsy charge. It was a precise thrust aimed at Hiroki's throat. The reach of the spear gave Doran a significant advantage.
Hiroki didn't draw yet. He side-stepped.
Whoosh.
The silver tip passed inches from his neck.
Doran didn't retract the spear; he swept it sideways, using the shaft like a staff.
Hiroki ducked. The wood cracked against the stone wall of a bakery behind him.
"Fast rat!" Doran hissed. He unleashed a flurry of stabs—Silver Rain.
Hiroki retreated, weaving through the strikes.
Left. Right. Duck. Pivot.
[Reflex Check: Pass][Speed Check: Pass]
He was analyzing. Doran's rhythm was fast, based on triplets. Stab-stab-sweep. Stab-stab-sweep.
There.
Between the second stab and the sweep, Doran's grip shifted. A micro-second of vulnerability.
Hiroki stopped retreating. He stepped in.
Doran's eyes widened. He tried to pull the spear back for a block, but the length of the weapon worked against him at close range.
Hiroki drew Umitsubame.
Battōjutsu: Rising Tide.
The blade didn't cut horizontally. It came up from the sheath in a vertical arc, knocking the spear shaft upward, forcing Doran's guard wide open.
"What—"
Hiroki spun, the momentum of the parry feeding into his next strike. He didn't slash. He slammed the pommel of his sword into Doran's temple.
CRACK.
Doran's eyes rolled back. He crumpled to the cobblestones, the silver spear clattering uselessly beside him.
Silence returned to the square, save for the low hum of the wind.
Hiroki stood over the unconscious bandit, his breathing steady. He hadn't killed him. He hadn't needed to. The difference between Kargo and Doran wasn't strength; it was style. Kargo was a brute who needed to be put down. Doran was a technician who could be dismantled.
The townsfolk began to whisper, peeking out from behind doors.
"He took him down..." "In one move?"
Hiroki ignored them. He was looking at the blue window.
[Combat Encounter Resolved][Enemy Defeated: Technique over Power]
[Status Window Update - Hiroki Rintarō]
Strength: 13.5 → 13.8 / 100Speed: 14.8 → 15.5 / 100Reflex: 16.8 → 17.2 / 100Swordsmanship: 20.1 → 20.8 / 100Tactical Insight: 15.2 → 16.0 / 100Observation Haki: 0.45% → 0.6% (Slight Increase)
He sheathed the sword. The Wazamono blade hadn't even vibrated upon impact. It was a good partner.
"Young man!"
An older man with gray hair and glasses—the Mayor, Boodle—pushed through the crowd. "That was... incredible. You saved the town."
Hiroki bowed slightly. "I'll take the bounty to the nearest base. Do you have a rope?"
As Boodle scrambled to find rope, Hiroki looked at his hands.
0.6% Observation. He had felt the rhythm of the spear attacks before they fully committed. It wasn't seeing the future, but it was hearing the intent.
He looked toward the harbor. The Grand Line was still far away. But here, in the East Blue, he was beginning to understand the shape of his own strength. It wasn't just numbers. It was the silence between the strikes.
"Hiroki!" Boodle returned with a coil of rope. "Please, stay for dinner. It's the least we can do."
Hiroki considered it. His supplies were okay, but a hot meal was rare.
"One night," Hiroki said. "Then I move on."
He tied up Doran, the "Silver Spear" looking much less impressive in bondage.
The path to the top was a mountain of bodies and broken blades. Hiroki Rintarō was just starting his climb.
[Chapter 4 End]