20+ early chapters on Pátreon.com/Herd99
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The light bleeding through the blinds in Kain's office was far too aggressive for his taste. Warm, golden rays crawled across piles of ignored paperwork, empty coffee cups, and a collection of half-eaten pastries that had long since gone stale.
Kain sat at his desk, body slouched low, face tilted just enough to avoid the sunlight. His coat was draped over the back of his chair like it had been tossed there days ago—and it probably had. A lukewarm cup of coffee rested near his elbow. In his hand was a jelly donut, mostly intact despite being held for fifteen minutes.
He wasn't working. He was shopping.
A soft blue glow hovered over his lap—his Shonen System menu flickering quietly as he browsed through options he'd been avoiding all week in preparation for the rematch with Smoker.
"Dramatic Speech Enhancer… pass. Sounds like it yells things for me," he mumbled, scrolling. "Protagonist Aura? No thanks. I'd rather not glow while getting coffee. Emergency Snack Pack… dangerously tempting, but I'd just spend the points replacing the snacks I already eat."
His thumb paused.
[Ability: Haki Infusion (Temporary)]
Cost: 500 BSP
Effect: Grants temporary access to Armament Haki, allowing the user to hit Logia-type Devil Fruit users.
Duration: 1 hour]
Kain squinted at it. "Now that's interesting. Very shonen. Very plot-convenient." He tapped his chin with the edge of the donut. "And also very likely to be needed if Smoker's mood goes south again."
Before he could linger on the decision, his door creaked open. A thick cloud of cigar smoke drifted in before the man himself.
Captain Smoker.
Same trench coat. Same jitte. Same unbothered scowl like someone had ruined his morning—and he was ready to return the favor.
Kain groaned. "You do realize knocking is a thing?"
Smoker didn't bother answering. He sat down across from Kain, dragging the chair backward with a screech. "We need to talk."
"Talk," Kain said, tearing a bite from his donut. "But just so you know, I'm not emotionally available before noon."
Smoker didn't laugh. He rarely did. "I've been reviewing your file again. You've stayed a Lieutenant longer than any of the others. And despite your… unique brand of laziness, your numbers are solid. Better than most. You're wasted in that chair."
Kain rolled his eyes. "Here we go."
"You've turned down three promotions. Most people would kill for one."
"Most people haven't figured out that promotions come with meetings," Kain said. "And extra reports. And people expecting me to be some role model. I'm not interested in being that guy."
Smoker leaned forward. "You already are, whether you like it or not."
Kain leaned back. "Let me be clear: I'm not interested in whatever heartfelt speech you're about to hit me with. I've barely slept, my coffee's garbage, and I just finished wrestling with the idea of buying temporary Haki so I can punch you if you start smoking through walls again."
Smoker's lip twitched into a smirk. "Then how about this: we settle it during the fight."
Kain blinked. "Come again?"
"Our rematch. Tomorrow. No holds barred," Smoker said. "If I win, you become my second-in-command. You take the promotion, and you stop hiding behind excuses. But if you win, I'll stop pushing. You keep your lazy title, and I won't mention promotions again."
Kain stared. "That's your pitch?"
"That's the deal."
Kain groaned, rubbing his face. "You couldn't just threaten to fire me like a normal boss?"
Smoker stood up, jitte slung over his shoulder. "Where's the fun in that?"
Kain sighed deeply, like someone who had just realized their nap was officially canceled. "Alright, fine. But I get one condition of my own."
Smoker raised an eyebrow. "Name it."
"If I win, you owe me a lifetime supply of donuts. High-grade stuff. None of this stale budget box."
Smoker let out a short laugh. "Deal. Don't be late tomorrow."
As the captain walked out, leaving the door wide open and the air thick with cigar smoke, Kain stared at the blinking blue menu still hovering in front of him.
The Haki ability still sat there, waiting.
He took a long sip of his cold coffee, then muttered, "I should've transferred to accounting."
That night, in one dimly lit room, the flickering blue light of the Shonen System menu cast shadows across Kain's face.
He sat cross-legged on his futon, in his quarters, in what might've passed for deep thought if not for the half-eaten rice cracker balanced on his chest.
His eyes drifted between two options on the menu:
[Ability: Haki Infusion (Temporary)] — 500 BSP
[Item: Sleep Enhancement Pillow (Auto-Dream Mode)]
— 500 BSP
It was a close call.
"…Be honest," he muttered to no one. "I'm not gonna win this fight without it, am I?"
The system didn't answer — not with words, anyway. But the tooltip on the Haki ability blinked brighter, like a silent nudge. Or mockery. Hard to tell.
He sighed and selected it.
[Ability Purchased: Haki Infusion (Temporary)]
- Duration: 1 hour
- Note: Use wisely, protagonist!
"Don't call me that," Kain said flatly. "I'm not a protagonist. I'm a functional adult trying to avoid upper management."
The blue interface faded. Kain tossed the cracker in his mouth and leaned back on his elbows. There was a low hum in his chest, like something had clicked into place.
The Haki wouldn't activate until he used it, but just knowing it was there made the inevitable clash feel slightly less miserable.
Only slightly.
His "training" consisted of walking a few slow laps around the barracks, stretching once, then lying on the grass and staring at the stars for forty minutes.
He briefly considered doing push-ups, then remembered his arms would be sore tomorrow and opted to finish a meat bun instead. Tactical decision-making, really.
Tashigi passed by once during his midnight snack run. She blinked in surprise.
"You're… still awake?" she asked.
"I'm carbo-loading," he said, holding up the bun like it was evidence in a trial.
"For what?"
"Survival."
She frowned but didn't press. She'd learned not to.
Back in his quarters, Kain finally collapsed onto the futon with a heavy sigh. His coat was tossed haphazardly over a chair. His boots, kicked into a corner. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling like it owed him money.
"You ever get the feeling," he mumbled, "that everyone around you expects something from you… and none of them are willing to admit they're just as tired?"
The system didn't respond. Of course not.
He drifted off, knowing full well the morning would come far too fast.
He was right.