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As Rosh gestured toward the display case, Clint Barton's eyes landed on a peculiar, light purple fruit. Its surface was etched with concentric target-like patterns, giving it an almost hypnotic appearance.
To the untrained eye, every Devil Fruit in the display case looked bizarre and otherworldly, but none immediately revealed their potential. Being new to this realm of power, Clint couldn't determine what made this one special. He needed Rosh's insight to fully understand its capabilities.
"I'm sure Natasha gave you an overview," Rosh began, his voice calm and precise. "The Mark-Mark Fruit grants its user the ability to mark any object or individual as a target. Once marked, anything you throw will automatically hone in on that target with incredible precision. It's like having a built-in guided weapon system, complete with dynamic tracking and correction mid-flight. Does that sound familiar?"
Clint's face lit up with recognition. "Yes, exactly! That's what Natasha explained," he said eagerly. "She mentioned that its tracking abilities are comparable to an advanced targeting system, adjusting in real-time. It's... honestly hard to believe."
Rosh nodded, his expression unchanging. "It may sound unbelievable, but the fruit delivers as described. No matter how basic, every projectile you use will behave like a state-of-the-art homing missile, adapting to movement, obstacles, and environmental changes."
Clint understood the weight of the situation. As a master archer, his skills were nearly flawless, his marksmanship legendary, ranking him among the world's most skilled marksmen. Yet, he was still limited by the constraints of human ability—arrows couldn't bend around corners or change direction in mid-air.
The possibilities offered by the Mark-Mark Fruit were nothing short of revolutionary. It promised to take his precision to heights he had never dared to dream. With dynamic tracking and perfect homing, if the fruit lived up to its claims, it could elevate his already extraordinary talents into a realm that surpassed human limits.
Clint's voice brimmed with awe and excitement as he remarked, "So Natasha wasn't exaggerating after all."
"She wasn't," Rosh affirmed with a slight smile. "The Mark-Mark Fruit offers exactly what she described. With it, your aim will never miss its mark."
Before Clint could let his thoughts spiral too far, he refocused and asked a question that had been on his mind: "Is there any limit to how far the Mark-Mark Fruit can track a target?"
Rosh answered with a calm shake of his head. "There aren't any specific distance limits. Once a target is marked, the projectile will find its way, even if the target is miles away—possibly hundreds of kilometers."
Clint's eyes widened in astonishment. "No limits? Hundreds of kilometers? That's insane! Even the most advanced sniper rifles in the world can't do that!"
His amazement grew as the implications of Rosh's statement sunk in. A Devil Fruit with the ability to track targets over such extreme distances was nothing short of revolutionary. This was a game-changer for Clint, whose combat prowess was defined by precision and range. Natasha had been right—this fruit seemed tailor-made for him, offering the potential to elevate his already legendary skills to unprecedented heights.
Just as Clint's excitement was reaching a peak, Rosh's steady voice cut through. "However, Clint," he said, his tone measured, "I feel it's only fair to mention that the Mark-Mark Fruit does come with certain limitations."
The shift in tone made Clint pause, his enthusiasm tempered by curiosity and caution. He straightened slightly, his expression serious. "Go on," he urged, his voice steady despite the flicker of concern.
"The first limitation," Rosh explained, "is the method by which the marking is applied. The user must physically touch the target with their hands to mark it. Without direct contact, the ability cannot be activated."
Clint blinked in surprise, taking a moment to process the explanation. "So, let me get this straight—you're telling me I have to get close enough to physically touch the target, mark them, and only then can I use the tracking ability for an attack?"
"Exactly," Rosh replied with a calm nod.
Clint: "..."
To say this was inconvenient would be an understatement.
If he was already within arm's reach of a target, wouldn't it make more sense to eliminate them right there and then? The whole point of relying on ranged weapons like a bow was to deal with threats from a safe distance. Having to get close enough to touch someone before launching an attack felt counterintuitive—like putting a mosquito repellent patch inside a mosquito net.
Still, Clint wasn't one to dismiss potential tools outright. His years in the field had taught him that no tool was perfect, but every tool had its use. He began to think of situations where this ability could shine. In his line of work, there were plenty of scenarios where direct assassination wasn't an option—covert missions, hostage situations, or tracking enemies over long distances. In those cases, marking the target first and then striking later could be invaluable.
Keeping his tone cautious, he asked, "Okay, fair enough. But how long does the mark stay active once I apply it?"
Rosh's response was, as always, enigmatic. "The duration depends on how frequently you wash your hands."
Clint frowned, completely thrown off. "Sorry, what? Are you saying... washing my hands would remove the mark?"
"That's correct," Rosh replied without hesitation.
Clint: "..."
This fruit was starting to feel more like a practical joke than a game-changer. Was he supposed to avoid washing his hands indefinitely after marking someone? The sheer absurdity of the idea made him rub his temples in frustration.
"Yes, Clint," Rosh continued with an air of calm certainty. "The mark will be removed if you wash your hands, so you'll need to avoid washing them if you want the mark to remain. Also, the marking process is entirely automatic. If you touch someone with your bare hands, they'll be marked whether you intended to or not. To prevent accidental markings, wearing gloves during physical contact is essential."
Clint's lips twitched into a wry smile, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "So, no handwashing and gloves at all times? Wow, this just keeps getting better."
The situation had officially crossed into the realm of absurdity.
The idea of avoiding basic hygiene and living with gloves felt more like a punishment than a power. The image of himself as a germaphobe archer clad in gloves 24/7 didn't exactly scream "master assassin" or "elite operative."
"Oh, and there's one more detail," Rosh added, his tone as measured as ever. "Humans have two hands, so the maximum number of marks a user can maintain at any given time is two."
Clint blinked, and his jaw tightened. That was the final straw.
The Mark-Mark Fruit, which had initially seemed like a dream ability for someone of his skill set, now felt like a logistical nightmare. What began as excitement had unraveled into sheer disappointment under the weight of its impractical limitations.
"Looks like Natasha didn't have the full picture on this one," Clint remarked dryly, shrugging. "Thanks for explaining all that, though. I think I'll check out some of the other options."
Rosh smiled politely, unfazed. "Of course. Here's our complete catalog," he said, handing Clint a leather-bound book filled with detailed descriptions of the Devil Fruits. "Take your time. Let me know if something catches your eye, and I'll provide all the details."
Clint nodded, flipping open the catalog. As he scanned page after page, he found himself drawn into the sheer variety of powers. Each fruit seemed to offer abilities straight out of a sci-fi novel—breathtaking in their potential, though often laced with quirks or caveats that required careful consideration.
Despite his initial frustration, Clint couldn't deny the intrigue of it all. The world of Devil Fruits was both maddening and utterly captivating. While the Mark-Mark Fruit might not be the right fit, there was no telling what other marvels lay within these pages, waiting to be discovered.
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Next Chapter: The Zoan Fruit That Caught Clint Barton's Eye
Next Next Chapter: From Now On, Call Me Falconman!
Next Next Next Chapter: The Power of Zoan Devil Fruits Unleashed!
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