The Prydwen's command room was quiet, the dull thrum of its massive engines resonating beneath the deck as Six sat behind his reinforced desk—one hand holding a stylus, the other resting near a half-empty mug of cold coffee.
Six leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen as the data flickered before him, the datapad glowed softly with columns of vast amounts of information, which was almost overwhelming—yet fascinating. His mind raced through the implications of what Julie and the Followers had discovered; Genetic code, neural wave patterns, and a complex overlay of what the Followers were now calling Rokushiki resonance fields.
Six narrowed his eyes, scrolling through the recent discovery. Julie and her team had outdone themselves.
The Rokushiki wasn't just a martial technique or a product of insane training—it was an omnipresent energy frequency, a metaphysical pattern present in everything; People, air, water, even the earth itself, a fundamental vibration of life itself.
He swiped the datapad with a tap of his finger, bringing up more of the raw data. Everything, from the smallest speck of dust to the largest war machine, vibrated at that same frequency. The human body, an inanimate object, a gun—everything had a unique frequency that could be manipulated, accessed. It was as if he could sense the strings of reality itself, if they just focused hard enough.
Everything had a vibration, and when a human could sync their body to it—even momentarily—they could perform feats that bent reality. Move through air, tear through steel, and punch with the force of artillery.
It made perfect sense now why those abilities were reproducible through the capsules—because they were just frequency codes. Programs that accessed this omnipresent field, like tuning into the right radio wave. As long as the body could withstand the strain, the capsule could teach anyone to use these techniques.
But Haki...
Haki—the true power, the pinnacle of will.
Six tapped the file marked [Observation Log: Roger D. – Haki Interaction], watching the screen fill with readings taken during their last training bout. Most of them were blank or wildly inconsistent. Biofeedback sensors shorted out. Neural scans looped. One line of code in the AI's system even flagged the anomaly as "Divine interference suspected."
He smirked at that.
His thoughts shifted back to Roger's brutal training. Every swing, every moment of pain, every blast of Armament Haki Roger had forced into his body—it was all pushing him to understand what it meant to channel one's own soul, one's will, into reality itself.
Haki wasn't a frequency. It wasn't something you tuned into. It was energy manipulation—it was the power to bend existence with your resolve. A force born of will, forged in the soul's crucible and focused into the world like a weapon. It was rejection of the world's rules. A soul's scream made real.
It couldn't be downloaded or inherited through technology. It was a primal force, something that required not just understanding but the ability to master one's self at the deepest levels.
Roger had put it best, mid-punch:
"You don't learn Haki, kid—you confront the world and tell it to sit the fuck down."
The capsule couldn't replicate that. It could heal, repair, download knowledge to one's mind, and enhance someone's ability to withstand Haki. It could toughen the body to take Conqueror's pressure or push the neural pathways needed to sense Observation… but it couldn't create the will to unlock the ability. That had to be earned.
The medical capsules could give the knowledge, but they couldn't teach this. No machine could provide the kind of experience Haki demanded.
Six ran a hand through his hair, mind buzzing with thoughts. He knew the Rokushiki could be learned quickly through repetition and mental adaptation with the right tools. But Haki… that was different. It was a journey. It was personal.
Six leaned back, exhaling slowly as he looked across the desk. The implications were wild.
With Rokushiki available through capsule download, Goodsprings could train elite enforcers in weeks instead of years.
The Brotherhood of Steel youths, if trained carefully, could reach physical abilities that rivaled Old World superheroes.
But Haki? That would remain the final gatekeeper. The difference between a foot soldier and an elite officer.
He opened a secure message and sent a quick communiqué to Viktor, his father.
"Pop's, I'll need more capsules manufactured, in time to train all our forces. The techniques and knowledge we're downloading—they're unlike anything we've ever encountered."
The message was short, but it carried weight. His father would understand. There was no room for failure in this.
Six closed his eyes, replaying the mental image of Roger's face, the man who had unlocked the ultimate potential of his will. Every painful strike, every lesson taught, seemed to be pushing Six closer to something he wasn't quite ready for but knew he needed.
But now, with the discoveries about the Rokushiki, something inside him clicked. He wasn't just learning to fight or to control his power—he was learning to sync with the frequency. To control the very essence of reality itself, not just with his fists or with his body, but with his very soul.
As the Prydwen hummed softly around him, Six stood up, walking toward the viewport where the snow-covered California terrain sprawled beneath the floating shadow of the flying fortress. Shady Sands shimmered in the distance, his new NCR position in the capital city waiting. His legacy.
Roger had already said it.
"Rokushiki is what makes you faster. Haki is what makes you matter."
Six cracked his knuckles, already thinking about the next step: expanding the capsule's reach, training specialized instructors, and continuing Roger's method of awakening Haki through battle, blood, and belief.
Because soon... there'd be more than just one "King of the Wasteland."
There'd be a whole dynasty.