ONE PIECE: FLOW OF FATE

That was a profoundly difficult day for Renjiro. While he wasn't completely unaccustomed to swords, the sheer intensity and practical brutality of the "Mercenary's Edge" style, combined with his five-year-old body's limitations, made it a grueling experience. Maria, too, had a very hard time adjusting to this demanding new method.

I don't know why he didn't teach this to Maria sooner, Renjiro mused internally, watching Drake correct Maria's footwork. Was he waiting for me?

As they both continued their drills as ordered from Drake, the day wore on, marked by the constant strain on their young muscles and Drake's relentless corrections.

A week later, Renjiro didn't see any real progress in his Haki training.

I can't even feel anything; it's just meditating at this point. Am I being impatient? he thought, frustrated. Let's call Renzo for this. Maybe if I try dodging whilst blindfolded, I could develop Observation Haki more quickly.

He left the training area and went home. When he spotted Renzo, he called out, "Renzo, do you want to play a game with me today?"

Gaining Renzo's immediate attention, the younger boy quickly stood up and beamed. "Oh, what game? Is it hide-and-seek?" Renzo asked happily.

"No, no, it's called dodging, where you're blindfolded and dodge incoming attacks," Renjiro explained. Renzo looked confused.

"Attacks? Isn't that dangerous if we threw something at each other?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

He isn't going to agree with me. Let me make it simple for him, Renjiro thought.

"No, for me! Since I'm older, I will be blindfolded, but for you, you won't. Understood?" Renzo thought for a moment, then jumped up excitedly. "Okay, let's go!" he exclaimed.

Such is the gullibility of a child, Renjiro thought, laughing.

Renjiro led Renzo to a relatively clear patch of ground behind their cabin, away from any thorny bushes or large rocks. He found an old, thin strip of cloth and tied it securely around his eyes, plunging himself into immediate darkness. The world narrowed to sounds and faint sensations. The crisp air on his skin, the distant chirping of birds, the closer rustle of leaves. And Renzo's eager, shifting feet.

"Okay, Renzo," Renjiro called out, his voice sounding oddly disembodied in the silence. "Remember, just throw them gently. Nothing too hard, alright?"

"Okay, big brother!" Renzo's voice was a high-pitched squeal of delight, clearly enjoying the oddity of the game.

Renjiro braced himself, focusing his entire being. He tried to mimic what he imagined "sensing presence" felt like. He stretched his awareness outwards, trying to feel the air currents, the shifts in sound, anything that might betray the trajectory of an incoming object.

Feel your surroundings. Be your surroundings. He repeated the mantra, waiting.

A soft thump landed squarely on his forehead.

"Missed!" Renzo shouted, giggling. It was probably a small clump of dirt.

Renjiro sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Again, Renzo," he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

Another throw. This time, he heard a faint whoosh to his left. He instinctively jerked his head, but felt another soft impact against his ear.

"Almost!" Renzo cheered, clearly finding this hilarious.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Renjiro was hit again and again—on his shoulder, his leg, his chest. He heard the rustle of Renzo picking up more small stones or clumps of earth, the soft thwip of their release, but his attempts to predict or 'sense' them were futile. His mind screamed for the elusive 'presence' that would warn him, but there was nothing but the physical sensation of impact. His five-year-old body, though tired from the morning's swordsmanship, kept going, driven by his older mind's stubborn will.

This is useless. Utterly useless! he thought, a familiar wave of disappointment washing over him. It's just random guesswork at this point. How did Usopp awaken it? Was it just sheer panic? On second thought it was.

Just as he was about to give up and call it a day, he felt it. A faint, almost imperceptible prickling sensation, a shift in the air pressure, a whisper of intent. It was incredibly brief, barely a half-second, but it was there, just before Renzo's arm moved.

He didn't move fast enough to fully dodge, but he tilted his head instinctively. A small pebble, meant for his face, glanced off his cheek instead of hitting him squarely.

"Hey! You almost got it that time, big brother!" Renzo exclaimed, surprised.

Renjiro froze, his eyes still covered. Did I... did I actually feel that? Or was it just luck? The sensation was gone as quickly as it came, leaving him in the same confusing darkness. He tried to replicate it, to grasp onto that fleeting awareness, but it remained out of reach.

He continued for a few more minutes, but the fleeting moment didn't return. Eventually, his small body began to shiver from the exertion and the slight chill in the air, and Renzo's throws became less frequent as his initial enthusiasm waned.

"Okay, Renzo, that's enough for today," Renjiro said, untying the blindfold. His eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sudden brightness. Renzo was sitting on the ground, making mud pies.

"Aw, already?" Renzo pouted, then brightened. "Can we play again tomorrow, big brother?"

"Maybe," Renjiro replied, a slight frown on his face. He was exhausted, frustrated, but a tiny spark of hope had been ignited by that one strange, almost-dodge. It's there. It's really there. I just need to figure out how to grab it.

As they left the area where Renjiro had attempted his blindfolded dodging with Renzo, Renjiro remained deep in thought, a determined frown etched on his small face.

Let's remember how Rayleigh trained Luffy, he mused, the frustration of his recent failed attempts still fresh. Rayleigh didn't just tell Luffy to meditate. He threw him into the deep end. Survival against powerful beasts, constantly pushing his body and senses to their absolute limits.

He recalled snippets: Luffy fighting giant animals, being forced to use his senses without sight, learning to control his spirit. It wasn't about theory for them, it was about pure, brutal application. Pushing past your physical and mental breaking point until something clicks. That's how both Observation and Armament Haki truly awaken and develop.

I don't have Rayleigh. I don't have a giant beast island. But I do have... Tundveil Forest. He glanced towards the treeline, a dangerous glint in his eyes, but his brow was now deeply furrowed with conflicting thoughts.

This is incredibly dangerous. A knot of ice formed in his stomach. I just got a new life, a family that cares. After everything, I can't just throw it away on a foolish gamble. His past self, trapped in a hospital bed, would have done anything for this second chance. To risk it all so carelessly now... it felt fundamentally wrong.

But what's the alternative? he argued with himself. Passive meditation and Renzo's pebbles aren't cutting it for Haki. The world is about to go crazy. If I don't get strong now, truly strong, I'll be useless when real threats arrive. Protecting them, truly protecting them, means taking risks.

He weighed the raw, brutal efficiency of Rayleigh's method against the sheer fragility of his five-year-old body and the preciousness of this new life.

It's true, facing genuine danger is likely the most viable way to awaken Haki. He conceded the point internally, a bitter taste in his mouth. But it's also incredibly reckless, bordering on suicidal for a five-year-old with no backup. I need to be pragmatic, not desperate.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze moving from the menacing treeline back to the familiar path home. No. Not yet. I can't just throw myself into a literal death trap. I need to maximize what I can do safely first. Drake's training. My physical conditioning. I'll push those limits until I break, and I'll keep trying with the gentler Haki attempts.

The world's about to change. I'll need every ounce of strength. The risk of inaction is still there, but so is the risk of recklessness. A grim resolve settled in his young chest. I'll prepare. I'll plan. And when the time comes, when I'm stronger and the stakes are higher... then I will face that danger. But for now, I continue with what I have.

As Renjiro walked away from the training grounds, his mind was still a whirlwind of thoughts, dissecting his Haki breakthrough and the stark decision he'd just made. He was so absorbed that he didn't notice the faint ripple in the air, or the fleeting shadow that detached itself from the edge of the forest.

From a distant, impossibly tall tree, a cloaked figure watched Renjiro's retreating form. A soft, almost inaudible chuckle escaped their lips. "A child defying the odds, indeed," a low, resonant voice murmured, layered with an ancient wisdom. "Such raw potential, and a spirit so conflicted. Will he rise to meet the coming storm, or be swallowed by it? Perhaps... a little assistance will quicken his pace." With a whisper of displaced air, the figure vanished, leaving the forest once again to its silent, watchful peace.

When Renjiro entered the small town square, the familiar sight of the cabins and the smell of woodsmoke offered a momentary comfort. That comfort was abruptly shattered. Two boys, taller and broader than his small frame, stepped out from between two houses, blocking his path. Lumi and Bumi. Coal's children. For the past years, Renjiro hadn't interacted with them much, but the "old" Renjiro had – and those encounters had been far from pleasant.

"Well, well, if it isn't 'Yellow Eyes'," Lumi sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "Heard you've been doing some 'training' lately."

Who are these dipshits? Renjiro thought, his brow furrowing in confusion for a split second before recognition dawned. Oh, right. Coal's children. How could I forget? He sighed inwardly, deciding they weren't worth his time, and tried to simply ignore them, continuing to walk past.

"How can you ignore me like that?!" Lumi snapped, his face reddening. His younger brother, Bumi, stepped up beside him, a nasty grin spreading across his face. "Maybe he needs a little reminder, brother." They exchanged a malicious glance, then both smirked, picking up small, sharp-edged stones from the ground.

Without warning, they simultaneously hurled their projectiles.

In that very instant, Renjiro felt something. It wasn't a thought, not a conscious decision, but a sudden, inexplicable prickle of warning, a flicker of presence that wasn't there a moment before. Unconsciously, his body reacted. He jerked his head violently to the left, his small frame twisting just enough for the first rock, aimed squarely at his temple, to whistle past his ear with a sickening whoosh. The second one, a mere fraction of a second later, grazed his shoulder instead of hitting his chest.

Renjiro stumbled back, his eyes wide as he stared at the rocks that had embedded themselves harmlessly in the dirt behind him. His mind was utterly flabbergasted. This is exactly what I was talking about! When I'm training, I don't feel anything, but when I'm not training, and it appears instinctively! A wave of ironic gratitude, mixed with lingering irritation, washed over him. I guess I have to thank these assholes.

"You got lucky with that one, Yellow Eyes! How about dodging four?" Lumi scoffed, already bending to grab more stones. Bumi was doing the same.

At that moment, as Lumi and Bumi wound up their arms, a towering figure suddenly loomed up behind them, casting a long, imposing shadow.

"What the hell are you two doing?!" a deep, calm voice boomed, laced with clear authority. "Two-on-one? You should be ashamed of yourselves! Sorry about that, Renjiro, don't mind these idiots."

It was Adam, the son of the village elder and priest, Mark. In his late twenties, Adam possessed a quiet strength and a commanding presence. He worked in the capital but lived with his father in Tundveil, preferring the village's honest simplicity over the "immorality and disturbance" of the city.

"Adam just had to come," Bumi muttered quietly to Lumi, his sneer replaced by a sullen pout. They both shot a warning gaze at Renjiro, then, seeing Adam's unwavering stare, reluctantly backed away. "Now go on," Adam said, his voice firm. "If I see you guys again, it won't be pleasant." Lumi and Bumi grumbled, but wisely decided to leave.

Adam approached Renjiro, his expression one of gentle concern.

Now that I think about it, I didn't even know he lived in the village, Renjiro thought, a flicker of memory from the original Renjiro's past surfacing. I completely forgot about him.

"Little Renji," Adam said, kneeling down to be at eye level with the child. "I heard you've been training lately, in swordsmanship and regular exercise. I pray to God that he eases it for you, young one. Continue to strive for strength, but remember, it can be a blessing or a curse." Adam's eyes held a deep, knowing look that seemed to pierce through Renjiro's young facade.

Adam offered a final, knowing nod, a soft, almost pitying smile touching his lips, before he continued on his way through the quiet village, disappearing behind the next cabin.

Renjiro stood for a moment, Adam's words echoing in his mind: "Strength can be a blessing or a curse." Given his meta-knowledge of the One Piece world, this advice struck a deep chord.

A curse, indeed, Renjiro mused. So many powerful figures, both Marine and pirate, were twisted by it. Intoxicated, abusing it, losing themselves in its pursuit or wielding. He vowed: No worries, I won't be like that. My strength will be for the protection of my life and those near me. As for others… I can't say. His philosophy was clear: his own survival and his chosen family's safety were paramount, a brutal pragmatism born from past weakness and a harsh understanding of this new world.

Renjiro diligently continued his training after that day. He pushed himself relentlessly with Drake, refining the brutal efficiency of the "Mercenary's Edge." His small body adapted, movements sharpening, endurance growing. The rivalry with Maria persisted, a silent, simmering competition that spurred them both on as she refused to be outdone.

In his quieter moments, Renjiro resumed his "game" with Renzo, blindfolding himself while Renzo threw small objects. Though true Observation Haki remained elusive, those fleeting "pings" of precognition became subtly more frequent. He'd instinctively shift a split-second before impact, turning direct hits into glancing blows. It was inconsistent, a frustrating tease, but those near-misses fueled his resolve.

This rigorous routine continued for the next six months. Summer faded into autumn, then the biting air announced Tundveil's winter. Renjiro, now half a year older and noticeably stronger, faced the cold with grim determination. His body was far more resilient, capable of enduring Drake's demands. He knew winter meant limited outdoor activities, but also more time for mental focus, and perhaps... even more desperate, high-stakes attempts at Haki.