"The greatest trick isn't making people want what you're selling. It's making them believe they need it before they even know it exists." - Unknown Marketing Genius
"You want to do what?"
Sachiko stared at me across the breakfast table, her teacup frozen halfway to her lips.
"Build a race track," I repeated calmly, spreading jam on my toast. "A dedicated circuit for high-speed vehicle testing and public demonstration. Approximately 2.3 miles in length, with elevation changes, banking turns, and a straight section long enough to demonstrate maximum velocity capabilities."
She set down her cup very carefully. "Arlo-kun. You're five years old."
"I'm aware."
"Five-year-olds don't usually propose massive construction projects that would require..." She glanced at the proposal document I'd slid across to her. "...seventeen hundred workers and an estimated budget of 840,000 belly."
"I'm not a usual five-year-old."
"That," she said dryly, "is becoming increasingly apparent."
I took a bite of toast and waited. Sachiko was brilliant at business—she'd quadrupled our family's wealth in the six months since our parents died. If anyone could see the potential in what I was proposing, it was her.
She picked up the document and began reading properly.
I'd spent three hours last night (subjective time—about thirty seconds real time in Akashic Records) preparing this proposal with Raphael's assistance. Every detail was calculated, every projection verified, every risk assessed and mitigated.
Project: Takeshi Grand Circuit & Automotive Exhibition Center
Primary Objectives:
Public demonstration of automotive technology Brand establishment and market penetration Employment generation (1,700+ positions) Tourism and economic stimulus for Wano
Timeline: 6 months construction, 2 months promotion, grand opening in 8 months
Projected ROI: 347% within first year
Sachiko's eyes moved down the page, and I watched her expression shift from skepticism to interest to calculation.
"The employee benefits package," she murmured. "Competitive wages, family housing, medical coverage at Takeshi Hospital... Arlo-kun, this is more generous than what most Daimyo offer their samurai."
"Good workers deserve good treatment," I said. "If we want the best people, we need to offer the best conditions. Besides, healthy, happy workers are 34% more productive according to studies from—" I caught myself before saying "Earth's 20th century." "—according to logical analysis."
She looked up at me. "Where did you learn about labor economics?"
"Books." Technically true. I'd read plenty of them in my previous life.
"What five-year-old reads books about labor economics?"
"The kind who wants to change the world."
Sachiko's expression softened. She reached across the table and ruffled my hair. "You really do, don't you? Want to change the world."
"Is that so strange?"
"No," she said quietly. "Just... unusual. But then, you've always been unusual."
She went back to reading. I finished my toast and waited.
Finally, she set the document down and looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"This is insane," she said.
My heart sank.
"But," she continued, "it's also brilliant. The numbers work. The logistics are sound. And if even half of your projections are accurate, this could transform Wano's economy." She paused. "There's just one problem."
"What?"
"People don't know what automobiles are. You can't sell them something they can't imagine needing."
I grinned. "That's why we're not selling them. Not yet. First, we're giving them an experience they'll never forget."
Three Weeks Later
The construction site was chaos in the best possible way.
Seventeen hundred workers swarmed across what had been empty land on the outskirts of Wano's capital. Earthmovers (magical constructs I'd created and disguised as "advanced machinery") carved through soil. Foundation teams laid groundwork. Carpenters built grandstands. Engineers surveyed elevation grades.(He didn't just do regular combat practices with Hinata he also learned arcane knowledge from her)
And I stood in the middle of it all, a five-year-old boy in a miniature supervisor's outfit, with Raphael running calculations in my head and a clipboard in my hands that I absolutely didn't need.
"Team Seven, the western banking turn needs to be recalculated," I called out to a group of surveyors. "Current angle is 23 degrees. We need 28 for optimal vehicle performance at speed."
The lead surveyor—a grizzled man named Takumi who'd initially been skeptical about taking orders from a child—checked his measurements and nodded. "You're right, young master. How did you see that from here?"
"Good eyes," I said, which was technically true. My Saint-level perception could detect millimeter-level variations from hundreds of meters away.
"The boy's a demon," I heard one worker mutter to another as I walked past.
"A demon who pays triple what the mines offer and gave my family a three-room apartment," the other replied. "I'll take that kind of demon any day."
I suppressed a smile and continued my inspection rounds.
The track was taking shape exactly as I'd envisioned. A 2.3-mile circuit with twelve distinct turns, three straightaways, elevation changes of up to 47 feet, and one section—the "Devil's Banking"—with a 33-degree angle that would let cars corner at speeds that would seem impossible to people who'd never seen motorsports.
But the track was only part of it.
Surrounding the circuit, we were building:
Grandstands with capacity for 15,000 spectators A massive paddock area for vehicle staging An exhibition center showcasing automotive technology Food vendor areas Medical stations (staffed by doctors from Takeshi Hospital) And my personal favorite: the Stunt Arena
The Stunt Arena was pure Red Bull-style marketing genius. A dedicated section where we could perform automotive acrobatics—jumps, spins, precision driving demonstrations. Things that would make people's jaws drop and their hearts race.
Things that would make them want.
"Arlo-sama!"
I turned to see Kenji running toward me—one of the project foremen I'd promoted after he'd shown exceptional leadership skills. He was young, maybe twenty-three, with sharp eyes and sharper instincts.
"The ramp construction is complete," he reported, slightly out of breath. "Do you want to inspect it?"
"Absolutely. Lead the way."
We walked to the Stunt Arena section, where a massive ramp had been erected. Forty feet long, angled at precisely 23 degrees, reinforced with steel supports and topped with smooth wood planking.
It was a work of art.
"This will hold?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Raphael had calculated the stress tolerances down to the molecular level.
"We built it to your specifications exactly, Arlo-sama. Triple-reinforced supports, shock-absorbing underlayment, surface treatment for optimal traction. It could support a charging elephant."
"Good. Because it's going to support something much heavier, moving much faster."
Kenji's eyes widened. "You're really going to jump a car over this?"(Yes he told them what a car is, he didn't show it them yet as it will be a big reveal)
"Several cars. In front of fifteen thousand people. On opening day."
He laughed—nervous, excited energy. "This is madness."
"This," I corrected, "is marketing."
<
Right. The advertising.
That was the real genius of this whole operation.
The Advertisement Campaign
Wano had never seen anything like it.
We didn't have television. No radio. No internet. The technology for mass media didn't exist yet.
But we had something better: spectacle.
Phase 1: The Mystery
For one week, strange posters appeared overnight throughout Wano's major cities. No one saw who put them up. They just... appeared.
The posters were simple:
SOMETHING IS COMING IT ROARS WITHOUT A VOICE IT RUNS WITHOUT LEGS IT WILL CHANGE EVERYTHING 8 WEEKS
No company name. No explanation. Just the cryptic message and a countdown.
People talked. Speculation ran wild. Some thought it was a new Daimyo decree. Others whispered about demons. The superstitious said it was a prophecy.
Perfect.
Phase 2: The Tease
Week two: new posters.
These ones showed a silhouette—clearly some kind of vehicle, but details obscured. The text:
FASTER THAN A HORSE STRONGER THAN AN OX TIRELESS AS THE TIDE THE FUTURE APPROACHES 7 WEEKS
Now people were really talking.
I had teams of "concerned citizens" (paid actors, essentially) discussing the posters in markets, tea houses, busy streets. Planting ideas. Building hype.
"I heard it's a new kind of cart that moves by itself."
"Impossible! How could a cart move without being pulled?"
"Magic, probably. Or some kind of demon power."
"The Takeshi family is building something out past the eastern fields. Massive construction project."
"What are they building?"
"No one knows. But they're hiring. Thousands of workers. Best pay in Wano."
Word spread like wildfire.
Phase 3: The Reveal (Sort Of)
Week three: detailed posters with actual information.
These featured a technical drawing of a Model T—beautiful, precise, enticing. The text:
THE AUTOMOBILE NO HORSES. NO MAGIC. PURE ENGINEERING. SEE IT WITH YOUR OWN EYES TAKESHI GRAND CIRCUIT GRAND OPENING IN 6 WEEKS FREE ADMISSION ALL CITIZENS WELCOME
At the bottom, in smaller text:
WITNESS: High-speed racing • Death-defying stunts • The future of transportation PLUS: Employment opportunities • Family housing • Medical benefits JOIN THE REVOLUTION
The response was immediate and overwhelming.
Within three days, we had fifteen thousand advance registrations for attendance. Within a week, over three thousand employment applications.
Sachiko was impressed. "I've never seen anything like this. How did you know it would work?"
"People love spectacle," I said. "Give them mystery, then revelation. Make them feel like they're part of something historic. And most importantly..." I grinned. "Make it free. Remove every barrier between them and the experience."
"But we're spending a fortune on this event. The construction, the workers, the promotional materials..."
"The event isn't the product, Sachiko-nee. The event is the advertisement. We're not selling cars at the opening. We're selling a dream. The desire. The possibility. After they see what automobiles can do, they'll line up to buy them."
She shook her head, but she was smiling. "You really have been reading about economics."
If only she knew the truth.
Phase 4: The Employment Drive
While the hype built, I focused on the second part of the plan: building a workforce.
The Takeshi Employment Program was, by Wano's standards, revolutionary.
Base Positions (Manufacturing Floor):
Starting wage: 400 belly/week (double the standard laborer rate) Work hours: 8 hours/day, 5 days/week (unheard of—most worked 12-hour days, 6 days a week) Housing: Free family apartments in Takeshi Workers' Village (new construction, 2-3 bedrooms, modern amenities) Medical: Full coverage at Takeshi Hospital for employee and immediate family Meals: Subsidized cafeteria on-site (breakfast and lunch provided at cost)
Skilled Positions (Engineers, Supervisors, Technicians):
Starting wage: 600-900 belly/week All base benefits plus: Education stipends for children Retirement savings program (5% employer contribution) Annual performance bonuses Profit-sharing options after 2 years
Management Positions:
Competitive market-rate salaries (negotiated individually) All previous benefits plus: Ownership stakes in company Extended medical coverage (including dental, vision) Flexible scheduling Professional development opportunities
The applications flooded in.
We set up recruitment centers in three major cities. I personally designed the interview process—a mix of practical skills testing, aptitude assessments, and character evaluation.
<
"Accept the top 1,940," I told Kenji, who'd become my de facto HR director. "Start training immediately. I want the manufacturing facility operational two weeks before the grand opening."
"That's... ambitious, Arlo-sama."
"We're building the future, Kenji. Ambition is the minimum requirement."
He grinned. "I'll make it happen."
The Workers' Village
One of my proudest achievements wasn't the race track or the factory.
It was the village.
Built on land adjacent to the manufacturing facility, Takeshi Workers' Village was designed to be more than just housing. It was a community.
Layout:
800 family apartments (2-3 bedrooms, modern plumbing, electricity from magical runestone that are working in a complex way are disguised as "advanced technology") Central community center with library, recreation areas, children's playroom Public bath house (traditional design, but with modern water heating) Small market with subsidized goods School for workers' children (free tuition, quality teachers) Parks and green spaces Medical clinic (satellite of Takeshi Hospital)
The architecture was a blend of traditional Wano aesthetics and practical modern design. Clean lines. Efficient use of space. Beautiful but functional.
When the first families moved in, I walked through the village and watched their reactions.
A mother crying as she saw her children's new bedroom—twice the size of their previous entire home.
A father testing the running water, stunned that such luxury was included in his employment package.
Children playing in the park, laughing with the kind of carefree joy that came from security and comfort.
An elderly grandmother, living with her son's family, marveling at the medical clinic. "They'll really treat us? For free?"
"For free," I confirmed. "Your son works for us. You're part of the Takeshi family now. We take care of our family."
She bowed so deeply I thought she might fall over. "Bless you, young master. Bless your house."
I helped her straighten up. "No need for that. Just be well. Be happy. That's enough."
Later, walking back to the main estate with Sachiko, she was unusually quiet.
"You're thinking something," I said.
"I'm thinking," she said slowly, "that you're either the kindest person I've ever met, or the most manipulative."
I considered that. "Can't it be both?"
"That's what worries me."
"Sachiko-nee, I'm paying fair wages because productive workers generate more value. I'm providing housing because commute times reduce efficiency. I'm offering medical care because healthy workers have better attendance. Everything I'm doing has a logical business justification."
"I know. That's what makes it manipulative."
"Would you prefer I exploit them? Pay minimum wages, provide no benefits, treat them as disposable?"
"Of course not."
"Then what's the problem?"
She stopped walking and looked at me—really looked at me, with an expression that made me uncomfortable.
"The problem," she said quietly, "is that you think like a businessman 10 times your age. You talk about efficiency and ROI and long-term value generation like you've been doing it for decades. Sometimes when you speak, I don't hear a five-year-old boy. I hear..."
She trailed off.
"What?" I prompted.
"I don't know. Someone else. Someone who's seen things I can't imagine."
My blood went cold.
<
"I just read a lot," I said, forcing a childish shrug. "Books about business and stuff. And I think about things. Is that so weird?"
"No," Sachiko said, but she didn't sound convinced. "Not weird. Just... different."
She ruffled my hair and started walking again, but I could feel her concern like a weight on my shoulders.
How long could I maintain this fiction? How long before she realized I wasn't really a child at all?
<
Later, I thought. I'd deal with it later.
Right now, I had a revolution to launch.
Six Weeks Later: The Night Before Opening Day
The Takeshi Grand Circuit was complete.
I stood at the center of the track in the fading twilight, looking at what we'd built.
The grandstands rose like monuments—fifteen thousand seats, all of them claimed for tomorrow's event. The track itself was a masterpiece of engineering, every curve calculated for optimal drama and safety. The Stunt Arena gleamed with fresh paint and polished ramps. Vendor stalls stood ready. Medical stations staffed. Security positioned.
And in the paddock, covered by tarps to maintain the mystery until the last moment: twenty Model T automobiles.
Not the magicule-enhanced versions I'd created for myself. These were the production models—purely mechanical, no magical assistance. Just brilliant engineering, quality materials, and the kind of reliability that would make them legendary.
Production Model Specifications:
Engine: 28 HP, 4-cylinder inline High-Compression Top Speed: 50 mph Fuel Efficiency: 22 mpg Features: Electric starter (revolutionary for this era), enclosed cabin option, adjustable seats, safety glass, superior suspension Build Quality: Triple-tested, 10,000-mile warranty Price: 3,800 belly (expensive, but we'd offer financing)
They were beautiful. Elegant. Revolutionary.
And tomorrow, the world would see them fly.
"Arlo-sama?"
I turned to find Kenji approaching with a clipboard and an exhausted expression.
"Final checklist?" I asked.
"Final checklist," he confirmed. "All systems green. Drivers briefed and ready. Stunt team has rehearsed seventeen times. Vendors stocked. Medical teams on standby. Security coordinated with local authorities. Guest list confirmed—we've got representatives from every major family in Wano, including..."
He paused dramatically.
"Including?"
"The Kozuki clan. Kozuki Sukiyaki himself is sending his son. Kozuki Oden will be in attendance."
Oden. The legendary samurai who would one day sail with Whitebeard and Roger. Who would become one of the most beloved figures in Wano's history before his tragic death at Orochi's hands.
Except Orochi was already dead, killed by me months ago.
The timeline was already changed.
<
"That's... good," I said. "The Kozuki endorsement would be valuable."
"More than valuable, Arlo-sama. If Oden likes what he sees, the entire nobility will follow. This could make or break everything."(If you didn't get it earlier then Arlo has zero plans of making any major business deals with nobles He has enough money from Takeshi clan business ventures and status of them being a nobility also he trying to raise the economy of general commoners by giving them employment opportunities so they could buy these vehicles thus a circle of investment)
No pressure, then.
"We'll be fine," I said with confidence I mostly felt. "We've built something incredible. The product speaks for itself."
Kenji nodded and handed me the clipboard. "Your speech. For tomorrow's opening ceremony. Sachiko-sama thought you might want to review it one more time."
I took the clipboard and scanned the prepared remarks. Sachiko had written them—eloquent, professional, appropriate for a major public address.
They were perfect.
They were also completely wrong.
"I'm going to improvise," I said.
Kenji's eyes widened. "Arlo-sama, this is the most important event in our company's history. Fifteen thousand people. The nobility. The Kozuki clan. You can't just... improvise."
"Kenji, what's the first rule of marketing?"
He blinked at the sudden question. "Um... know your audience?"
"Close. The first rule is: be authentic. People can smell a script from a mile away. If I get up there and recite prepared remarks, I'm just another noble giving a boring speech. But if I speak from the heart..." I tapped my chest. "If I show them why this matters, why this is going to change their lives... that's when we win."
He still looked uncertain, but he nodded. "I trust you, Arlo-sama. You haven't been wrong yet."
<
Thanks for the ego boost, Raphael.
<
Also true.
"Get some sleep, Kenji," I said. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"What about you, Arlo-sama? Shouldn't you rest?"
I looked out at the track, the grandstands, the empire we'd built in six weeks.
"Soon. I just want to enjoy this for a moment. Before everything changes."
He bowed and left me alone under the stars.
I walked to the edge of the track and sat down, legs dangling over the barrier wall.
Tomorrow, Wano would see the future.
Tomorrow, I would introduce a world of swords and sailing ships to the internal combustion engine.
Tomorrow, everything changed.
<
"What about the other 5.3%?"
<
The headache started—faint, warning me away from the line of thought.
I pushed it down.
Tomorrow was about cars. About progress. About changing Wano's economy and securing my family's future.
Tomorrow was not about existential questions I couldn't answer.
"Raphael, run me through the event schedule one more time. I want everything perfect."
<
<<0800: Gates open, spectators begin arriving>> <<0900: Opening ceremony begins, your speech>> <<0930: Technical demonstration (vehicle showcase, explanation of mechanics)>> <<1000: Stunt show begins (precision driving, jumps, synchronized maneuvers)>> <<1100: Racing exhibition (professional drivers, multiple heats)>> <<1230: Lunch break (free food provided to all attendees)>> <<1400: Final race (championship heat with cash prize)>> <<1500: Closing remarks, employment recruitment announcement>> <<1530: Factory tours begin (optional, for interested parties)>>
"The stunt show is the critical moment," I said. "That's where we hook them emotionally."
<
The gap jump. That was going to be spectacular.
We'd built a special ramp configuration that would send a car airborne over a 47-foot gap with a wall of fire in between. Completely unnecessary from a practical standpoint. Absolutely essential from a marketing perspective.
People would talk about that jump for years.
"Who's driving the gap jump?"
<
I considered that.
Letting Hiro do it was safer politically. Less risk of revealing my abilities.
But 73% success rate meant 27% chance of failure. A failure that could injure or kill Hiro, ruin the event, destroy our credibility.
Could I really take that risk?
"Decision in the morning," I said finally. "Let me sleep on it."
<
"Make it 0500. I want to walk the track before anyone arrives."
<
I stood and took one last look at the circuit.
Tomorrow, we changed everything.
I just hoped we were ready for the consequences.
End of Chapter 14
Next Time: The Grand Opening begins. Fifteen thousand spectators witness the impossible. Kozuki Oden arrives and sees more than he should. And Arlo makes a decision that will echo through Wano's history—but at what cost?
Author's Technical Notes:
Takeshi Grand Circuit Specifications:
Track Length: 2.3 miles (3.7 km) Turns: 12 distinct corners (mixture of hairpins, sweepers, chicanes) Elevation Change: 47 feet total (14.3 meters) Maximum Banking: 33 degrees (Devil's Banking, Turn 7) Longest Straight: 0.6 miles (perfect for top speed demonstrations) Surface: Compressed gravel with oil treatment (primitive but effective) Safety Features: Hay bale barriers, run-off areas, medical stations every 0.5 miles Grandstand Capacity: 15,000 (expandable to 25,000)
Production Model T-Series II—Final Specifications
Engine: 182 cubic inch (3.0L) Inline-4 "High-Compression"
Power: 28 HP @ 1,800 RPM (Optimized valve timing)
Torque: 95 lb-ft @ 1,000 RPM
Transmission: 3-speed Planetary (Added an "Overdrive" gear for cruising)
Top Speed: 50 mph (80 km/h)
0-30 mph: 9 seconds
Fuel Economy: 22 mpg (Slightly thirstier due to higher compression)
Fuel Capacity: 12 gallons (approx. 260-mile range)
Weight: 1,250 lbs (567 kg) (Increased use of aluminum components)
Brakes: Dual-circuit Mechanical Drum (Higher heat dissipation)
Suspension: Semi-elliptical leaf springs with friction shock absorbers
Special Features: Electric starter, High-beam headlamps, reinforced rubber tires, tachometer, and weather-resistant canvas top.
Build Time: 1.8 hours (Optimized via synchronized conveyor belts)
Price: 3,800 Belly (Reflecting the upgraded materials)
Employment Package Breakdown (Annual Value):
Base Worker:
Salary: 20,800 belly/year Housing: 4,800 belly value Medical: 1,200 belly value Meals: 1,560 belly value Total Compensation: 28,360 belly (~140% above market rate)
Skilled Worker:
Salary: 31,200-46,800 belly/year All base benefits plus education/retirement Total Compensation: 42,000-63,000 belly (~210% above market)
Management:
Salary: 62,400+ belly/year (negotiated) Full benefits suite plus ownership stakes Total Compensation: 85,000+ belly (~340% above market)
Economic Impact Projections:
Year 1:
Units Produced: 840 (ramping production) Direct Revenue: 2,688,000 belly Jobs Created: 1,940 Payroll: 41,184,000 belly Economic Multiplier Effect: 187,000,000 belly (infrastructure, suppliers, etc.) Wano GDP Impact: +1.7%
Year 3:
Units Produced: 4,200 (full capacity) Direct Revenue: 13,440,000 belly Jobs Created: 6,800+ (including suppliers/support industries) Economic Multiplier Effect: 934,000,000 belly Wano GDP Impact: +8.4%
Year 5:
Market Saturation: 12% of Wano households Secondary Industries: Road construction, fuel distribution, repair shops, racing culture Total Economic Impact: 340% GDP increase (as projected)
Advertisement Campaign Metrics:
Poster Distribution:
Phase 1: 15,000 posters across 12 cities Phase 2: 22,000 posters Phase 3: 35,000 posters plus handbills Total Coverage: 87% of Wano's urban population reached Cost: 47,000 belly (printing, distribution, actor fees) Word-of-Mouth Spread: Estimated 340,000+ people discussing campaign Advance Registrations: 15,000 (100% capacity) Waitlist: 8,700 additional requests
ROI Analysis:
Total Event Cost: 840,000 belly (construction) + 140,000 belly (operations) = 980,000 belly Expected First-Year Sales (conservative): 280 units = 896,000 belly revenue Break-Even: 14.3 months 3-Year Projected Profit: 8,400,000 belly ROI: 857% over three years
Stunt Show Technical Details:
Three-Car Synchronized Jump:
Ramps: 40 feet long, 23-degree angle Jump Distance: 35 feet horizontal Air Time: 1.8 seconds Landing: Downward ramp (18-degree angle for smoother impact) Synchronization Tolerance: ±0.3 seconds
Gap Jump Finale:
Gap Distance: 47 feet.Fire Wall Height: 12 feet (theatrical effect, safe clearance)Ramp Angle: 26 degreesRequired Speed: 52 mph (exceeds production model capability—special tuned vehicle)Air Time: 2.1 secondsMaximum Altitude: 9 feet above ground levelMargin for Error: 3.2 feet (tight but achievable)Success Rate (Professional Driver): 73%Success Rate (Arlo): 99.97%