"Divine aptitude."
That was the only way to describe it the kind of gift that allowed a person to comprehend instantly, before others could even blink.
Such was both the blessing and the burden of a prodigy.
Nami raised her hand, smiling brightly.
"I can vouch for him! I've never seen him use that power before."
"Even when he fought Mihawk at the Baratie, he didn't use Armament Haki at all!"
"What?"
Crocus froze.
For a moment, it looked as if a string of question marks had physically popped up above his head.
His eyes widened, locking onto Ron as though trying to read his soul.
You fought Mihawk?
And survived?
Surely, he thought, Mihawk must have been toying with him.
But before that thought could even settle—
Nami added casually, "And in the end, even Mihawk admitted he wasn't Ron's equal!"
SMACK!
Crocus slapped himself across the face.
Then again.
And once more.
"This must be a dream!" he muttered.
"Strange dream, though… why would I be dreaming about three kids I've never met?"
Ron and the sisters exchanged helpless looks.
Honestly, who could blame him?
After all, Mihawk — the swordsman who stood shoulder to shoulder with Red-Haired Shanks, Roger's successor in spirit — admitting defeat to a youth like Ron?
It sounded impossible.
Ron cleared his throat softly.
"Ahem… small correction," he said, giving Nami a half-stern, half-amused glance.
"It was only in swordsmanship."
Nami stuck out her tongue playfully.
"So what? You still won, didn't you?"
That was that.
As far as she was concerned, victory was victory.
Crocus exhaled slowly, trying to regain composure.
"Unbelievable… but fine. Let's see just how deep your talent runs."
His expression hardened, though the corners of his mouth still twitched with disbelief.
He'd sailed under the Pirate King himself.
He'd seen monsters — legends — the kind of men who could split the sky with a clash of wills.
But this?
This boy, with his quiet grin and impossible eyes…
Crocus couldn't help but wonder if fate was playing tricks on him.
Nojiko, watching the exchange, tilted her head.
"Old man, whether you believe it or not doesn't really matter, does it?" she said softly.
"Ron's only here to learn about Haki."
Crocus blinked, surprised by her simplicity — and her logic.
She was right.
Why would they lie? What could they possibly gain from deceiving an old hermit like him?
Slowly, the tension drained from his face, replaced by a reluctant smile.
"Perhaps you're right," he said. "Then let's test something."
He straightened his back, his tone suddenly sharp again.
"If you can awaken Observation Haki as easily as you did Armament, then I'll believe you."
"And…" — his eyes twinkled mischievously — "I'll even give you a little gift before you set sail."
Nami's curiosity sparked at once.
"What kind of gift?"
Crocus only chuckled. "You'll find out — if you can do it."
"Well, then," Ron said with a grin, "no point wasting time."
Crocus's gaze grew serious. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of cloth, tying it tightly over his eyes.
"I'll show you once — so watch carefully."
He turned toward the sisters.
"You two — grab a weapon. Any weapon. Attack me however you like."
Nami and Nojiko exchanged a nervous glance.
"Huh? Attack you?"
He was over seventy.
They hesitated.
But when Ron nodded encouragingly, they finally took a deep breath and readied their staves.
"Alright, here we go!"
Two minutes later, Ron heard that familiar sound in his mind again.
[Ding! The host has observed Crocus's Observation Haki (Intermediate) demonstration!]
[Ding! Congratulations — you have awakened and mastered Observation Haki (Intermediate)!]
"Intermediate?" Ron muttered, eyes widening in pleasant surprise.
"So the old man's Observation surpasses his Armament…"
He clenched his fists, satisfaction glowing in his chest.
Two kinds of Haki, awakened back-to-back — one of them intermediate already.
The system within him was almost unfair.
A few minutes later, Crocus removed his blindfold and held it out to Ron.
"Your turn."
Throughout the demonstration, the old man had easily dodged every strike the sisters threw at him.
At one point, he even covered his ears — forcing himself to rely purely on his Haki.
It was a performance of mastery, the kind born from decades of experience.
"Now," he said firmly, "if you can do what I did, I'll accept it."
Ron took the cloth and smiled faintly.
"Gladly."
He tied it around his eyes.
The world fell into darkness — yet he didn't seem the least bit hindered.
Crocus didn't waste a second.
He lunged forward, spear flashing in a sudden burst of speed.
The old man was faster than anyone his age had any right to be.
But Ron was faster still.
He shifted lightly to the side — not just avoiding the strike, but mirroring Crocus's exact movement from before.
Step for step.
Gesture for gesture.
Perfect replication.
Crocus froze mid-swing, awe slowly overtaking disbelief.
Then his lips curved into a rare grin.
"Incredible… then let's see how you handle this!"
He moved again — faster, fiercer — his spirit flaring with the same vigor he'd once carried into battle beside Roger himself.
Nami and Nojiko exchanged worried glances.
"Careful, old man!" Nami called. "Don't push yourself too hard!"
But Crocus didn't stop.
He hadn't felt this alive in years.
His blood burned with the thrill of combat — the echo of the age of legends.
Minutes passed.
And then, finally, Crocus halted.
Sweat glistened on his forehead.
He was panting hard — but not because of fatigue.
Because no matter how he attacked, he couldn't even graze Ron's sleeve.
Slowly, Crocus lowered his weapon.
"This… this is real," he whispered.
His eyes trembled, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.
"Instantly awakening both forms of Haki… mastering them on the spot…"
He looked at Ron — at the young man standing there calm and smiling, the faint breeze ruffling his black hair.
"Even Mihawk's swordsmanship, surpassed…"
Crocus's voice dropped to a reverent murmur.
"In all my life, I've never met someone like you."
He stared silently for a long moment — then breathed the words that had been echoing in his heart since the first exchange.
"Could it be… the one Roger spoke of… the chosen one?"
"Woooo—!"
Laboon's cry echoed across the sea, shaking the cliffs.
The great whale had heard every word, and its joy filled the air.
It sang toward the heavens, waves crashing around it like applause.
Nami and Nojiko laughed aloud, unable to help themselves.
Ron only smiled quietly, watching the water shimmer in the sunlight.
He would rest here for two more days, he decided.
There were things he still needed to understand.
As night fell, he returned to his ship, eyes lost in thought.
"Why is it," he murmured, "that aside from swordsmanship… every other skill Fishman Karate, the Marines's Soru, even my Haki refuses to evolve beyond the first stage on its own?"
The question lingered in the sea breeze, unanswered.
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