Day 2-3: Baking the Darkness
Next came the facade. He needed a stall. Back at the prime spot facing the execution platform, Takuya waited for the deep night. When the square was deserted except for the occasional drunk or patrolling Marine (whom he easily avoided by melting into the shadows), he got to work.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The cobblestones beneath his feet rippled like disturbed water. Sections rose, folded, and compacted, forming a sturdy counter, supportive legs, and even a small awning.
It looked rustic, cobbled-together from spare stone, fitting Loguetown's aesthetic perfectly. Another crunch summoned a simple clay oven from the earth beside it.
Day three was baking day. Using Overhaul to purify seawater into clean water and disassemble stolen sacks of flour and sugar into their purest forms (ignoring the morality, focusing on the chemistry), he began.
He mixed flour, water, sugar, and generous amounts of butter (also synthesized from simpler organic waste matter found in the alley muck – a process he tried not to think about too hard). The dough came together under his hands, not kneaded, but rearranged to perfect consistency.
Then came the special ingredient. He opened his pouch. The white powder gleamed faintly under the moonlight filtering through the awning. With precise, almost surgical movements using Overhaul, he integrated the cocaine into the dough, ensuring an even, potent distribution.
No clumps, no weak spots. A final flourish: a heavy-handed Overhaul-induced shower of sparkling sugar crystals and vanilla flavor molecules infused into the surface. The smell was intoxicating – warm, buttery, sugary vanilla, masking any lingering chemical traces. He shaped them into perfect, inviting circles.
He baked them in the earthen oven, the heat carefully regulated by subtly altering the stone's thermal properties. The scent intensified, wafting out into the pre-dawn air – pure, decadent, irresistible cookie aroma.
Day 4: Opening for Business – "Come to the Dark Side"
As dawn broke, painting the execution platform in pale gold, Takuya unveiled his creation. He propped up a sign, crudely painted on a piece of salvaged wood using berry juice and charcoal manipulated by Overhaul:
COME TO THE DARK SIDE
WE HAVE COOKIES!
(5 Beri Each)
He wore his oversized straw hat low, shadowing his face, and leaned against his stone counter, a plate of perfect, golden-brown cookies glistening with sugar in front of him. The smell was a siren song.
The first customer was a weary dockworker heading for an early shift. "Smells mighty fine, stranger," he rumbled, eyeing the cookies hungrily. "What's the gimmick? 'Dark side'?"
"Just a little joke," Takuya said smoothly, his voice pitched to be unremarkable. "Best cookies in the Grand Line, guaranteed. Try one? First one's free." He pushed a cookie towards the man.
Shrugging, the dock worker took it. He bit in. His eyes widened. "Whoa! That's… that's incredible!" He chewed rapidly, a look of pure bliss spreading across his face. "Sweet, buttery… and… wow. I feel… amazing!
Like I could lift a sea king!" He practically vibrated with sudden energy. "Gimme five! No, ten!" He slapped Beri coins on the counter, his initial weariness replaced by frantic enthusiasm.
Word spread like wildfire. By mid-morning, a small crowd had gathered. A fishwife, haggard from the early market, tried one. Her tired eyes snapped open, a wide, slightly manic grin splitting her face.
"Oh, my stars! I haven't felt this good since my wedding day! More! I need more!" She bought three, devouring one immediately, her movements suddenly sharp and jittery.
A young apprentice sailor, looking nervous, took a hesitant bite. His anxiety melted away, replaced by a surge of confidence and chatter. "This is fantastic! Better than rum! I feel invincible!" He bought several, sharing with his equally skeptical friends, who soon mirrored his euphoric state.
Day 5-7: The Descent and the Craving
Takuya's stall had become the hottest spot in town. The scent of warm, buttery cookies lured in everyone—traders, sailors, even Marines. The gruff Sergeant who'd first approached to "inspect" the goods was now one of his best customers.
"Remarkable confection, citizen! Uplifting!" the Marine declared, his stern face breaking into an unnerving grin as he chewed. He bought an entire bag, munching happily as he patrolled, his steps unusually light, his eyes too bright.
Takuya watched from behind his counter, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
The first wave of customers was always the most entertaining.
The thick-necked dock worker—who usually looked like he'd bite nails in half for fun—took a massive bite and froze. His eyes bulged. "WHOA NELLY!" he roared, crumbs flying.
Suddenly, he was shadow-boxing the air, bouncing on his toes. "I feel like a million Beri! Stronger than a giant! Gonna lift that ship myself!"
Takuya ducked behind the counter, shoulders shaking. Like a kid on a sugar rush. Hilarious.
Next was another fishwife who had come to buy the cookies after hearing its praises from the fishwife from before, her shoulders usually slumped under the weight of her baskets.
One nibble and—"Oh! Oh my stars!" Her exhaustion melted away, replaced by a flushed, giddy energy. She dropped her baskets and started a clumsy, joyful jig, fish spilling everywhere. "It's like springtime in my soul!"
Takuya bit his lip hard, tears pricking his eyes. Dancing granny. Perfect.
Even the twitchy young crybaby sailor, always fidgeting like he expected a Marine to grab him, transformed. After a few chews, his nervous energy sharpened into laser focus.
"Clarity... pure clarity!" he announced to the sky, puffing his chest out. "The world makes sense now! Nothing's impossible!" He looked ready to challenge the nearest officer to a duel.
Takuya turned away, a snort escaping. Little Napoleon.
But the real fun came later.
The once-boisterous dockworker shuffled back hours after his first cookie, looking like death warmed over. Dark circles ringed his eyes. His hands trembled violently as he slapped coins onto the counter. "Another," he rasped, voice raw. "Gotta... gotta get right."
Takuya handed him a cookie, watching with cold amusement as the man practically whimpered with relief, shoving it into his mouth. The brief moment of bliss faded instantly, replaced by a desperate, hollow stare at the remaining cookies.
Pathetic. And oh so profitable.
The fishwives returned too, but their earlier joy was gone. Their eyes were bloodshot, darting like a cornered animal. "Just one more," they pleaded, voice cracking.
"Please. We feel so low... so empty inside." She snatched the cookie, cramming it into their mouth, crumbs sticking to their lips. They lingered, staring at the plate with terrifying hunger.
Takuya counted their Beri, the clink of coins music to his ears.
Then came the new addicts.
A well-dressed merchant, his fine coat rumpled, shoved his way to the front. "Ten. No, twenty!" he demanded, hands shaking so badly he dropped coins. "Just give them to me NOW!"
Nearby, a Marine recruit—pale, sweaty, hollow-eyed—licked stray crumbs off his palm when he thought no one was looking. Takuya smirked. Hook, line, and sinker.
And the chaos began.
The square, usually a place of commerce and ceremony, had turned into a jittery, paranoid mess.
The confident young sailor was a wreck. The bravado had evaporated. He looked pale, sweaty, and constantly twitching. "Need one. Just... need to think straight," he mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze.
His hands shook so badly he fumbled the coins as he paid. Takuya raised an eyebrow but said nothing, enjoying the spectacle.
The square wasn't just full of desperate addicts; it was a powder keg. The cookie-fueled energy curdled into paranoia and rage.
"Oi! Watch where you're going, you clumsy oaf!" a sailor snarled, his eyes wide and paranoid.
A merchant had accidentally bumped him while reaching for the stall. Before the merchant could apologize, the sailor shoved him hard. "Trying to cut in? Steal my cookie?"
"Steal? You bumped me, you idiot!" the merchant yelled back, his face flushing with sudden, irrational fury. They instantly started shoving each other violently, shouting insults that drew a crowd.
Nearby Marines, who Takuya had seen happily munching cookies earlier, moved to break it up. But one looked pale and clammy, his eyes darting nervously. Another kept rubbing his temples, wincing.
Their movements were sluggish, their shouts lacked their usual authority. They struggled to pull the furious men apart. Takuya openly smirked now, leaning back against his counter. Perfect. Absolute chaos. Marines can't even handle a scuffle.
He happily scooped up his growing mountain of Beri, the coins cool and heavy in his hands. Chaos and cash. Doesn't get better than this. He plucked a normal cookie – baked safe and plain for himself – and took a satisfied bite, savoring the simple sweetness while watching the circus he'd created.
A well-dressed merchant, his fine clothes rumpled, was practically vibrating as he haggled frantically for ten cookies. "Just give them to me! Name your price! NOW!" he demanded, his voice shrill, hands trembling so badly he dropped several coins. Takuya just smiled pleasantly, raising the cookie's price by 10x.
Nearby, a young Marine recruit, looking sickly pale and hollow-eyed, thought he was being sneaky. He quickly licked stray cookie crumbs off his grimy palm. Takuya caught the movement and let out a low, dark chuckle this time. Hook, line, and sinker.
Takuya leaned back against his counter, munching a normal cookie, watching the chaos with dark satisfaction.
He scooped up his growing pile of Beri, the coins cool and heavy in his hands. Chaos and cash. Doesn't get better than this. Oh actually it does.
His cookies, crafted from the very waste the townsfolk discarded, had become an irresistible drug. And now, with demand soaring, he had raised the price tenfold.
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