Early the next morning, with the sea breeze brushing gently against their faces, Nami boarded the ship, waving back at the others.
"Don't be sad, Nami," Ha Shiro said softly as he pulled her into a light hug. "I'll still come back. You'll see."
She smiled faintly, trying to hide the flicker of emotion in her eyes.
Their next destination was Rogue Town—the island where the Pirate King had once been executed. A city of history and blood, and, as Ha Shiro thought with a sly grin, "a city filled with opportunities… and experience points."
Above the ship, seabirds glided across the bright morning sky, dropping bundles of newspapers tied with twine. Nami reached up and caught one, tossing a few coins to the bird as payment.
The paper was the crew's only real connection to the wider world.
As Nami unfolded it, a small slip fluttered down—a wanted poster.
It was Luffy's.
His grinning face stared back, and for the first time, his name was known across the Grand Line.
But Ha Shiro's bounty? Not yet. Hawkeye Mihawk wasn't the kind of man to report his strength to the Navy, and so, for now, his name remained in the shadows.
The voyage that followed was long and quiet. Everyone was busy with their own tasks—Luffy napping, Sanji cooking, Usopp tinkering, and Zoro, as always, sleeping with his swords nearby.
As for Ha Shiro, a barber with a rather unusual skillset, he refused to let the time go to waste.
That brief clash with Mihawk had taught him something important: he lacked real combat experience.
His strength was powerful, yes, but built on data and talent, not practice. Without the instinct born from countless battles, even eighty percent of his full power was all he could safely bring out.
"Maybe I should find some small-time bosses to spar with," he muttered to himself, resting his chin on his hand. "No need to fight monsters yet—just enough to make sure I don't get flattened when I meet one."
He'd already awakened his Haki, but without guidance, he had no idea how to use it properly. At best, he was groping in the dark.
"No teacher, no manual. Guess I'll just… learn by doing," he sighed, recalling the Navy's combat techniques. "Six Styles, huh? Maybe I can imitate them well enough."
After a long while of thinking, he shrugged and laughed. "Forget it. I'll take it one step at a time. At the very least, I can keep training my body. And with my reflexes, I should be fine as long as no one sneaks up on me."
He grinned faintly, already looking forward to Rogue Town. A bustling city meant countless "clients"… and plenty of new chances to harvest experience.
Among them, he already had one particular "target" in mind: a certain Dusty, a young Navy officer stationed in town.
"Ha Shiro, when we reach Rogue Town, want to go shopping with me?" Nami asked suddenly, appearing beside him.
"Ah, sorry," he replied with a small smile. "I've been feeling a bit rusty lately. I think I'll look for someone to spar with instead."
"Hmm, suit yourself~," she said playfully, shrugging before walking off.
Soon, the ship docked, and the Straw Hats dispersed into the busy streets of Rogue Town.
Ha Shiro followed Zoro from a distance, though his own plans were very different.
He carried a wooden board over his shoulder. On it, painted in bold letters:
"Haircuts — 1,000 Berries Each."
It was a ridiculous price for the town, but Ha Shiro didn't care. He wanted speed, not wealth. And as always, his true customers were the beautiful women who passed by.
Of course, if a man insisted…
"Fine," he'd mutter, "thirty seconds, tops."
But if it was a woman? Then he'd take his time. Five minutes minimum.
He spotted one now—a blonde woman with a parasol.
"Beautiful lady!" he called out. "Would you like to try a trim? I guarantee satisfaction—or your haircut's free!"
A loud voice interrupted. "Hey, let me try, barber. If you mess up, I'll beat your face in!"
A rough-looking young man with yellow hair plopped down in the chair.
"Click—done," Ha Shiro said after a blur of movement.
"Huh?!" The man blinked.
"Pay up," Ha Shiro said flatly.
When the guy hesitated, Ha Shiro smiled thinly. "No money? I'll shave you bald."
A single strand of his hair darted forward, brushing against the man's forehead like a blade.
The punk froze, eyes wide.
"I-I'll pay! I'll pay!"
As the crowd around them grew, murmurs spread. Ha Shiro's "performance" had drawn attention. And just like that, business started booming.
Soon, a few brave (and curious) women stepped forward, and Ha Shiro happily began "harvesting experience."
A chair made entirely from his own hair unfolded beneath them, and his hands moved in graceful, precise motions.
"Stamina +96.""Stamina +3."
The invisible numbers danced before his eyes. His grin widened.
Business was thriving, and as more people lined up, he activated his ability again—splitting his hair into multiple limbs, each trimming a different client at once.
But then—trouble arrived.
A tall man with a cigar in his mouth and a coat hanging loosely from his shoulders approached. White smoke curled around him like a living aura.
"New barber in town, huh?" Smoker said, glancing down at Ha Shiro. "Cut mine. That woman in the Navy's got terrible hands."
Ha Shiro's lips twitched. What luck. The famous Smoker himself.
"Sure thing," he said cheerfully. "Give me two minutes. You'll look sharp, guaranteed."
"Make it quick," Smoker grunted.
Ha Shiro got to work, focusing. "First trim for Smoker, major supporting character… Stamina +566."
He smirked slightly.
"Your technique's good," Smoker said, inspecting the mirror. "Too good. You're not a regular barber… You're a Devil Fruit user, aren't you? Probably a pirate."
Ha Shiro froze for half a second. This guy doesn't plan to 'thank' me by dragging me to jail, does he?
Before the tension could build, a familiar voice called out.
"Colonel Smoker!"
A young woman ran up—glasses, neat uniform, and an air of nervous politeness. Dusty.
"This beauty…" Ha Shiro's eyes brightened. "Your presence is blinding, miss. Please, allow me to serve you next."
Before she could react, he'd already guided her into the chair.
"Eh? You are—? Captain, I—!"
"I already paid for her," Smoker said with a wave. "She's all yours. Dusty, take your time."
"Hehe, Colonel, have a nice day," Ha Shiro said quickly, rubbing his hands together.
Once Smoker left, he turned his full attention to Dusty, his grin returning.
"These bangs need a bit of curl," he murmured. "Your hair's too short—it doesn't match your features. Let me help."
Before she could protest, strands of Ha Shiro's hair shimmered and stretched, wrapping gently around her head.
"Are you… a Devil Fruit user?" she asked in awe.
Ha Shiro didn't answer. He simply concentrated, extending her hair, shaping it, letting it fall in smooth, glimmering layers.
He wasn't just doing it for looks.
Each strand he added carried purpose—protection, sensory link, and connection. As long as she was on the same island, his hair could guide her to safety.
When he finished, he stepped back, admiring his work. "Beautiful. Right?"
Dusty blinked at her reflection. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders like silk.
"For the first time helping key character Dusty… Stamina +3,296. Hair hardness increased. Charm +1."
A rare reward notification flashed before his eyes, making his pulse quicken.
Was it because of the hair extensions? he wondered. Seems like it.
"T-thank you," Dusty said shyly. "It's just… this long hair will be hard to manage. Maybe I should—"
"Impossible!" Ha Shiro interrupted smoothly. "You're stunning. Don't you like it?"
"I do," she admitted, blushing faintly. "But… I don't have time to take care of it."
From childhood, no one had ever cared for her this way. Her colleagues whispered behind her back, calling her "that clumsy woman."
Ha Shiro noticed the flicker of sadness in her eyes. "It's okay. I'll take care of it for you. And besides—my hair can sense where you are. You'll never get lost."
He smiled, tugging her gently toward a nearby shop. "Come on, it's almost perfect. You need glasses that match your new look."
Before she could refuse, he had already picked out a delicate pair with light red frames and placed them on her face.
"Perfect," he said, satisfied. "Actually, no—you're still too covered in dust. Come on, let's clean you up a little more."
Under Ha Shiro's guidance, a new Dusty was born. More confident, radiant—like the woman she was meant to become years from now.
"T-thank you," she said softly, lowering her gaze. "But these… they're too expensive. My salary isn't enough to afford them."
Ha Shiro only smiled, his tone warm and teasing. "Then consider it a gift. From your personal barber."