The term "observation haki" lingered in my mind, evoking a sense of déjà vu that I couldn't quite shake off. It felt familiar, like a distant memory waiting to be unearthed, yet the specifics slipped through my fingers. The word 'Haki' resonated with me, stirring up vague recollections that eluded me, much like that frustrating sensation when a word hovers just on the tip of one's tongue—like an elusive puzzle piece that refuses to fit.
Since that fateful night, our crew had established an unspoken protocol to ensure my well-being. A rotation system was devised, with each member taking turns to sleep on the floor of my room. This arrangement was not just a precaution; it was a silent commitment to watch over each other in case the same self-harming incident were to resurface. The evening hours had turned into a shared vigil, a mix of anxiety and camaraderie. I couldn't help but appreciate the solidarity of my crew—their willingness to sacrifice their own comfort for my sake, a testament to the fact that I am part of the family.
"Kouya, do you know what haki is?" Shanks asked, his voice relaxed as we lounged beneath the shade of my beach umbrella. He lay back comfortably, his hands resting behind his head, eyes gazing up at the sky painted with soft hues of blue and white. The sun filtered through the fabric above us, casting gentle shadows upon where we sat. It was just the two of us on the ship; the rest of the crew had decided to venture back to Foosha Village, perhaps sensing the need to give Shanks and me a bit of privacy for the lessons he had promised.
I glanced over at the village, its rooftops glimmering in the sunlight, a stark contrast against the deep blue of the sea that stretched endlessly beyond. The distant sounds of laughter and chatter drifted towards us, reminding me of the vibrant town life. I shook my head, letting my dark hair fall around my face as I responded to Shanks. I had much to learn, and the unknown potential of haki intrigued me, even though I had no clue what it truly entailed.
"Just wait," Shanks continued, the corners of his mouth twitching into a playful smile, "by the end of today, you'll understand your value and what a rare gift you possess." His confidence was infectious, and I felt a sliver of anticipation in my chest—wondering if this journey would provide me with a sense of meaning. "Let's start with Haki," Shanks said, his voice steady and confident, drawing in the listeners around him. "Haki is a powerful ability that resides within every person; however, not everyone possesses the potential to unleash its capabilities fully. In essence, Haki is a manifestation of your will and inner strength, a reflection of your resolve and determination.
There are three distinct types of Haki, each with its own variations and nuances. The first is Observation Haki, which generally allows a user to sense the presence, emotions, and intentions of others. This type can be trained and honed, enabling practitioners to react swiftly in combat or to detect danger before it strikes.
The second type is Armament Haki, which empowers users by infusing their attacks and defenses with invisible armor. This ability not only enhances physical strength but also allows the user to bypass the defenses of those with Devil Fruit powers, making it essential in battles against formidable foes. Like Observation Haki, Armament Haki can be cultivated through rigorous training and experience.
Lastly, we have Conqueror's Haki. This rare and highly coveted form of Haki is different from the others—it cannot be learned or developed through effort. Instead, it is a gift that one is born with, a trait that signifies an inherently strong will. Those who possess Conqueror's Haki can exert their willpower over others, often instilling fear or even causing opponents to lose consciousness."
The sheer volume of information that Shanks had shared was almost overwhelming, like trying to drink from a firehose. As I sat there absorbing his words, I couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at me. I felt weak, as if I were merely a burden, carrying the weight of my own limitations with no clear path ahead.
"In your specific case," Shanks continued, his voice steady and reassuring, "you possess a rare talent for Observation Haki. It's a gift that only a handful of individuals are fortunate enough to have—the ability of future sight is particularly uncommon." He stated, acknowledging my potential that I still felt was burdensome.
"I just remembered," Shanks said casually, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Do you happen to know which devil fruit you ate?"
I stared at him, my expression blank as the weight of his words sank in. Devil fruit? A jolt of recognition hit me like a wave crashing against the shore. A forgotten memory surged to the forefront of my mind, vivid yet hazy, like a dream fading at dawn.
It felt like a lifetime ago when I had stumbled through that chaotic frenzy, my head spinning as I tried to piece together the fragments of my past. The truth was, I had completely blanked out on the moment I consumed that strange, enigmatic fruit. In the whirlwind of confusion, waking up on that mysterious island felt like a cruel twist of fate, leaving me not just disoriented but grappling for answers about my identity. What kind of devil fruit had I unwittingly bitten into in those frantic moments? Even now, the details remained elusive, shrouded in a fog of uncertainty.
As I stood there, my brow furrowed in confusion, Shanks let out a soft chuckle; the sound was warm and oddly reassuring. "Well, try using it," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. I couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief, my mind racing. It felt as if he had just sprouted three heads, each one more bewildering than the last. How could he expect me to attempt something I didn't even recall having the ability to do? The very notion hung in the air like a riddle, leaving me feeling both frustrated and intrigued, caught between the desire to understand and the nagging fear of failure.
"How?" I whined in distress as I curled into myself, head tucked into my knees. My struggles obviously amused Shanks.
"Breath Kouya, I'm just saying to give it a shot, you don't, if it works, then it works, if it doesn't, then it doesn't. No need to think so hard." Shanks waved his hand, gesticulating as he spoke.
"Oh," I replied, momentarily at a loss for words. I drew in a deep breath, my gaze locked onto Shanks, and a sudden, instinctual understanding washed over me. "Sleep," I commanded, a word slipping past my lips in a tone I had never known I could wield. The sound was almost languid, yet imbued with an authority that felt both foreign and exhilarating. It dripped with indifference and confidence, a stark contrast to my usual timid and stuttered manner of speaking. In that moment, I felt a shift within me, as if I had tapped into a hidden well of strength that transformed my voice into something potent and compelling.
Almost as soon as my voice reverberated through the quiet room, I noticed Shanks's eyelids beginning to flutter, a sure sign that he was succumbing to sleep. In less than a heartbeat, his eyes drifted shut, a serene expression settling on his face. The gentle rumble of his snores began to fill the air, each breath punctuated by a soft, rhythmic sound that seemed almost musical. A familiar and comical sight soon followed—the iconic snot bubble began to inflate at his nostrils, wobbling gently with each inhale, a testament to the depth of his slumber. It was a moment that effortlessly captured his carefree spirit, contrasting with the bustling world around us.
The serene scene before me, with its gentle whispers of the wind and the soft rustling of leaves, was ironically what ignited a surge of panic within me. I had just made Shanks fall asleep, and the reality of that struck me like a thunderclap. "Shanks," I called softly, my voice returning to its usual quiet and sluggish tone. Yet, the familiar sound of his name seemed to float into the air without reaching him; he remained blissfully unaware of my presence.
Determined, I tried again, summoning all the strength I could muster, which was perhaps only enough to match a normal speaking volume. "Shanks!" This time, my voice held a hint of urgency. The only reply I received was an awkwardly loud snore that echoed around us, startling a nearby bird from its perch.
Frantically, I called out once more, "Shanks!" It was likely the loudest I had ever shouted, fully coherent, and the sound reverberated through the surroundings. As if in response to my desperate call, a snot bubble inflated and then popped, the noise cutting through the quiet like a sudden clap of thunder.
In an instant, Shanks jolted awake, his eyes wide and slightly glazed, confusion momentarily clouding his expression. Then, recollection flickered across his face as he remembered what had happened just before that led to his unexpected slumber.
He gazed at me for a brief moment, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement as he processed what had happened to him. Then, without warning, he erupted into laughter, the sound resonating like a joyful bell ringing through the air. The infectious joy in his laughter eased my growing anxiety, leaving me with a nearly exasperated sigh.
"Well, that's certainly one approach to discovering the full extent of your devil fruit's powers," Shanks said between chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned back slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "But I'm curious—how can you manage that while also possessing some sort of telekinesis? I distinctly remember witnessing you manipulate your utensils to feed yourself during meal times," he continued, rubbing his chin with a hint of intrigue, as if pondering the fascinating enigma that was my newly uncovered abilities.