Aragorn stared at the glowing numbers one last time and shrugged.
"Guess that's normal for a five-year-old."
He stretched his small arms, determination flashing in his eyes.
"Then I'll focus on what I can train—my body and my Observation Haki."
Decision made, he slipped out of the orphanage and headed toward the edge of Gloria, the kingdom's bustling port city. On one side, the harbor stretched wide with ships rocking against the docks; on the other, a dense forest loomed, its edges casting long shadows. The rest of the land sprawled into rocky plains and stretches of sand that reached distant villages.
Aragorn made straight for the forest. He didn't dare go too deep—he knew well enough that dangerous beasts lurked in One Piece's forests—but he ventured far enough that the city walls barely faded behind the canopy.
From his pocket, he pulled out a strip of black cloth he'd found discarded back at the orphanage. A makeshift blindfold. Tying it tightly around his eyes, he inhaled.
He broke into a sprint, relying solely on the flickering blue auras in his mind's eye. His feet slapped against the dirt, weaving between trunks, branches, and rocks. For a moment, he felt almost weightless, gliding through the forest like water.
But reality set in fast.
Crack—! His forehead slammed into a low-hanging branch.
Crunch—! A sharp stone jabbed into his heel.
Stumble—! Roots and uneven ground sent him staggering.
"Gah—dammit!"
Aragorn hissed, yanking the blindfold up. He rubbed at the new bump swelling on his head, teeth gritted. His chest rose and fell, more from frustration than exhaustion.
He stopped, forcing himself to think.
'I can sense them… but it's too fuzzy. I'm reacting too late.'
Aragorn sat down on a fallen log, tugging the blindfold down around his neck. Sweat dripped from his brow, but his mind was sharper than ever.
'Observation can sense intent. Every living thing has it.'
His gaze wandered over the forest floor.
'People are easy—strong wills shine like beacons. Animals too, though fainter. Trees… they've got life, but their presence is weak. Their roots and branches are almost invisible.'
He frowned, rubbing his chin.
'But rocks? Stones? Dead Branches? They've got no life, no intent. That's why I can't sense them at all.'
He clenched his teeth in thought. Dodging people and beasts was one thing. But how could he avoid something he couldn't even feel?
Aragorn leaned back against the tree, eyes narrowing in thought.
'If I can sharpen my Haki enough, maybe I can read the exact outlines of living things—see their shapes instead of just their presence. That would take care of trees and roots…'
But rocks and lifeless obstacles remained a blank wall in his mind. No matter how he twisted the idea, he couldn't find an answer.
With a long sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. "
Fine. I'll figure it out later."
His small fists clenched at his sides, resolve flashing in his eyes.
"For now… I'll train my body. The stronger I get, the further my Haki will evolve and strengthen."
Aragorn threw himself into training with all the determination his small frame could muster. Sit-ups until his stomach burned, push-ups until his arms trembled, and pull-ups on low tree branches until the bark tore at his hands. He climbed trees with both hands and feet, leaping from trunk to trunk, and sprinted through the forest at full speed, forcing his body into rough, clumsy parkour.
Two hours later, he stumbled out toward the forest's edge. Sweat poured down his face, his shirt clinging to his body, scratches lining his arms and legs from slips and falls. He bent forward, clutching his knees, chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath.
"Damn… this is tough,"
he muttered between gasps.
Then his stomach growled fiercely, the sound almost louder than his own breathing. He pressed a hand against it, grimacing.
"Hungry…? But I just ate three hours ago."
Sighing, he straightened up and turned back toward Gloria. His battered little body might have been crying for rest, but food came first. Aragorn trudged on, deciding to head back to the orphanage and fill his belly before training again.
Aragorn sat in the mess hall, hunched over a tray piled high with whatever he could scavenge from the kitchen. The food was simple—bread, boiled vegetables, a thin soup—but filling enough. Meat was a rarity in the orphanage, far too costly for their budget. Still, he ate quickly, wolfing it down with the appetite of a boy who had pushed his body far beyond its limits.
As he chewed, his mind wandered back to the problem gnawing at him.
'Fujitora could walk through an entire city blind without ever stumbling… which means non-living things can be sensed too. I just need to figure out how.'
His brow furrowed. The thought refused to leave him, hovering even as his plate emptied.
When at last his stomach was full—though the bland meal left him unsatisfied—he pushed the tray aside and rose. The hall had quieted down, the younger children already shuffling off to bed. Aragorn made his way upstairs, his legs heavy but his mind still turning.
At the end of the hallway, he pushed open the door to the dormitory. A large room stretched before him; rows of bunk beds lined neatly along both walls. Most of the children were already curled up under their thin blankets, the soft chorus of snores and sleepy whispers filling the air.
Aragorn padded quietly to his own bed near the middle of the room. Climbing onto the lower bunk, he lay back, staring up at the wooden slats above. His body ached, his scratches stung, but his thoughts kept circling.
Slowly, the noise of the dormitory faded, and his eyelids grew heavy. He drifted into sleep with a single, stubborn thought:
'I'll figure it out. I have to.'