The market was a sea of movement and sound as I wheeled my cart to my usual spot. This time, it wasn't just stocked with the simpler gadgets; the new bicycle design had drawn enough attention for me to bring a second, more refined model. The polished metal caught the sunlight, creating a subtle gleam that drew a few curious eyes my way.
Selling these products was risky, but playing it safe wasn't going to push me forward. The earnings were starting to stack up, and each sale was another step toward building a foundation that I could leverage.
A pair of young men, rough-looking with mismatched clothes and tattoos peeking out from under their sleeves, approached my stall. They weren't the type to spend money on something practical like a bicycle. I watched them, keeping my expression neutral.
"Nice bike," one of them said, smirking. He had tan skin and a scar that split one eyebrow in two.
I nodded. "Interested in buying?"
He chuckled, a hollow sound. "Depends on the price. Or maybe you'd just hand it over?"
The second man, shorter but stocky with sunburned arms, glanced around before stepping closer. I shifted my stance, ready for whatever they thought was going to happen.
"Sorry, this isn't free merchandise," I said, my voice even.
The taller one's smirk faded, and he reached for a knife at his side. "I think you misunderstand-"
Before he could finish, I pulled my crafted gun from the inside of my tunic, aiming it at the center of his chest. The simple, efficient design had been put together from scavenged metal and gears, but it was enough for situations like this.
His eyes went wide, and the stocky one froze.
"I don't think you understand," I said quietly, my finger steady on the trigger. The crowd around us, still engrossed in the market's noise, remained blissfully unaware.
The taller man's bravado evaporated, replaced by a thin veneer of fear. He raised his hands, taking a step back. "Alright, easy. No need for trouble."
"Good choice." I didn't let my guard down as they backed away, blending into the market before disappearing into an alley.
I slipped the gun back into my tunic, heart pounding but outwardly calm. That was the reality here. You could be both the merchant and the target. I packed up quickly, knowing word would spread that I wasn't one to be easily pushed around.
....
Back at the workshop, the sun's slanting rays painted the walls in gold and shadow. I dropped the pouch of earnings onto the table, 20,000 berries from today's sales, and set to work on my next project. The mechanical movements soothed the lingering tension from the confrontation.
When dusk fell, I cleared a space in the workshop, tying the cloth around my eyes and taking a deep breath. Training like this had become routine, but today I pushed myself harder. I navigated the obstacles I'd set up, weaving between crates and tools, feeling my way through the space.
The darkness heightened my other senses. I could hear the creak of the floorboards, the faint rustle of the wind outside, the distant sound of the market winding down. Each step was calculated; my feet were learning to feel the terrain even without my sight. This training wasn't just about physical agility, it was about honing the instincts that would help me unlock Observation Haki.
Days turned into weeks, and each session brought me closer to that elusive state of awareness. As I trained, I reflected on my encounters in the market and the challenges ahead. The piracy that had emerged following the Marineford War only intensified the need for me to remain vigilant.
....
One night, after a particularly intense training session, I decided to take a walk through the quieter parts of town, still blindfolded, to hone my senses further. I moved steadily, navigating familiar streets and sensing the shifting sounds around me. I could hear distant conversations, the clinking of coins, and the occasional laughter from taverns.
But then I heard a shift in the soundscape, a rustle behind me. My instincts flared. I turned just as I felt the presence of someone moving quickly toward me. I ducked instinctively, feeling the rush of air above my head.
"Hey! What's the rush?" I called out, still blindfolded.
"Get him!" a voice shouted, and I realized I was surrounded by a group of four men. They hadn't expected me to react so quickly.
With a surge of adrenaline, I moved into action. I reached for the gun hidden beneath my tunic, pulling it free with practiced ease. The first attacker lunged at me, but I pivoted, using my body weight to sidestep and bring the gun to bear. I aimed low and fired, the sound echoing through the alley.
The shot rang out, and the man yelped, stumbling back as I caught him in the leg. He fell to the ground, clutching his thigh. The remaining attackers hesitated, their bravado quickly deflating.
"Back off if you want to leave in one piece!" I shouted, voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
One of the men, the biggest, took a step forward, fists clenched. "You think you're tough with that toy? We'll take it from you!"
I aimed at him, finger resting lightly on the trigger. "I wouldn't advise that. Your friend here doesn't look too good."
They exchanged glances, uncertainty creeping into their expressions. I could sense the hesitation. "Let's go," one of them muttered, and they began to back away slowly, keeping their eyes on me until they disappeared into the shadows.
With a sigh of relief, I lowered the gun, heart still racing. I had successfully defended myself, but it was a reminder of the danger lurking in the corners of this town.
....
Back at my workshop, I cleaned the gun, my thoughts racing. The incident solidified my need to develop my strength and reflexes further. I needed to be not just a merchant but a survivor in a world where uncertainty ruled. The next morning, I resumed my training, this time incorporating movement drills with the gun, practicing both accuracy and speed.
Over the next few days, I focused on refining my products, incorporating feedback from customers. I designed new items that would be easy to transport and sell, multi-functional tools, furniture that could be dismantled and reassembled, and more bicycles for those in need of quick transport. Each product had to be practical and low-key, blending into the everyday lives of townsfolk without drawing too much attention.
....
Eventually, as I prepared to unveil my next wave of products, I set up another stall in the market. This time, I had a small collection of portable wooden chairs and a sleek, compact bicycle. As the sun rose, I watched the townspeople trickle in, ready for the day's hustle.
"Orion!" Livia called out, waving as she approached. "I heard you've been busy."
"Always," I replied with a nod. "You know how it is."
She raised an eyebrow at my newest creations. "You've outdone yourself this time. People will pay for that."
"I hope so," I said, setting my chin with confidence. "The more I sell, the more I can create."
As the morning unfolded, I found myself engaging with customers, demonstrating the durability of the chairs and the smooth operation of the bicycle. Word of mouth spread quickly, and soon I had a steady stream of buyers, some returning to purchase multiple items.
Midday arrived, and I could feel the heat of the sun bearing down. Just as I was wrapping up a sale with a merchant, I noticed a commotion at the edge of the market. A group of familiar faces, the same rough young men from a few nights ago, were back. This time, they weren't alone. They were accompanied by a couple of larger figures, probably pirates, judging by the tattoos and the confident swagger.
I felt a twinge of annoyance in my gut, but I quickly masked it, focusing on my customers. Livia had noticed as well, her posture shifting to a defensive stance.
"They're not here for business," she murmured, casting a wary glance their way.
"No, they're not," I replied, moving subtly to position myself closer to my gun.
The rough-looking group advanced through the market, pushing past people and creating a scene. They approached my stall, and the leader, the scarred one, stepped forward. "Thought we told you to back off, new guy."
"I don't recall you making a sale," I replied coolly, a slight smirk on my face.
His face darkened. "You think you can just run your mouth?"
Before he could act, I moved my hand toward the gun, ready for whatever would come next. "I suggest you remember the last time you tried that," I said, my voice firm.
Livia stepped forward, eyes sharp. "You're outnumbered. You should leave while you can."
The group hesitated, glancing at each other, weighing their options. But I didn't wait for them to decide. I pulled the gun from my side, pointing it at the ground, my finger resting lightly on the trigger.
"Go. Now," I commanded, letting my voice carry over the murmurs of the crowd.
The scarred man stepped back, his bravado faltering. "This isn't over," he spat, but the threat lacked the force it had before. They began to back away.