Chapter: Before the Blade

  The dormitory was quiet.

  Dawn hadn't yet broken through the cracked factory windows, and most of the others were still curled beneath thin blankets, twitching in dreams or snoring softly into their makeshift pillows.

  Kagerō sat cross-legged on the floor near the wall, his back straight, a flickering chakra-light cupped in his palm. He hadn’t woken early. Rather, he simply hadn’t slept long. Not deeply, at least. His dreams had been filled with ink and glowing threads, twisting coils that looped around his limbs and pulsed with hidden rhythms.

  He was trying again.

  Inhaling slowly, he focused on the churn inside. The quiet river of chakra that never stopped flowing, born from the friction of spirit and body. His own small sun, burning steadily, rising and falling with each breath.

  He tried something new this time.

  He imagined the coils inside him not just as a map, but as muscle. Muscle with memory. He let the chakra trace the same path it had taken during the visualization test. Ankles to wrists, spine to shoulders.

  Nothing changed.

  He wasn’t stronger. The flow wasn’t smoother. But…

  There was a… ghost of ease. As if the body remembered this path. Not in the mind. Not in any physical part. Somewhere deeper. Inert memory. Maybe that’s what instinct was.

  He tried again, letting the chakra follow those old lines.

  Then, carefully, he shifted intent.

  Not to move, or control.

  To sense.

  To feel beyond chakra.

  Was there something else? Something beneath?

  Soul?

  Mind?

  Emotion?

  His brows furrowed. The chakra pulsed, warm and steady, but it didn’t stretch toward anything unfamiliar. He didn’t feel a separate presence. Just… the stream. Constant. Rising and vanishing in a loop. Always just enough to be alive. No excess. No stillness.

  He let out a breath through his nose.

  “Failed again.”

  He reached to his side, pulling his notepad from under his blanket. The cover was frayed, and the edges were worn from being opened and closed too many times. Inside, he flipped to a fresh page, smoothing it carefully.

  Day 13, Cycle 2 > Attempted to redirect flow through remembered coil paths. >Slight improvement in speed, negligible change in volume. >No access to soul/mind signatures via chakra. Possibly not connected? Chakra generation appears to be self-balanced. It isn't 'stored' outside active control.

  'Kagerō thought with a long, steady inhale as he concluded most of today's journaling.

  He frowned slightly, '

  Note: Speculations--> Flow = life. Generation and dissipation seem tied to systematic survival mechanisms in the body. The body constantly attributes an amount of chakra to the body, like a life force. '

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Kagerō flipped back to the first page of his journal, tracing the first rule he concluded in these two years.

  "Chakra is formed only when energy from the spirit and the nurturing life force of body meld together..."

  '

  He traced back to his current page and jutted down.

  Conclusion: No Chakra = exhaustion of survival engine? Needs to be tested again later. '

  An image of a man in green spandex grinning at him appeared in his mind. He shivered involuntarily.

  '

  Kagerō grimaced a little and seemed disappointed. He sighed.

  '

  He finally jotted down a little again and closed his notebook.

  Result: Failed access to deeper resonance.

  '

  –'

  He underlined "deeper resonance" three times, then sighed.

  “So serious.”

  Kagerō blinked.

  He turned slightly.

  Dazuro was sprawled across the bunk beside him, one eye half-lidded, the other buried in his blanket. His hair stuck up in one direction like a failed transformation jutsu.

  “Need me to nap more so you can get answers?” Dazuro murmured, voice sleep-soft.

  Kagerō blinked. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Long enough to hear you fail gracefully.”

  “…It was a controlled trial.”

  “Looked like a sulk with breathing exercises.”

  Kagerō smirked faintly. “It was that too.”

  Dazuro yawned and stretched, limbs popping faintly as he sat up. “You’re doing more before sunrise than most of us do all week.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “Probably isn’t.” He rubbed his eyes. “But no one your size should look like they’ve already failed retirement.”

  Kagerō looked at his notes again.

  He couldn’t explain it, not to Dazuro, maybe not to anyone, but the time he had here felt both slow and impossibly fast. His body grew steadily, but it shouldn’t have grown this much. Not in two years. Not without something strange in the sun, the food, the world itself.

  Time stretched, thick like syrup. Yet when he trained or tested or wrote, it slipped away in whole afternoons.

  There was too much he didn’t know.

  He closed the notebook with a soft snap and tucked it back beneath his blanket.

  “Big test today,” Dazuro mumbled, lying back again.

  “Yeah,” Kagerō said.

  “Let me know what weapon you choose,” Dazuro added. “So I can tell everyone I picked mine first.”

  Kagerō raised an eyebrow. “Why does that matter?”

  “So I don’t look like I’m copying the scary toddler genius,” Dazuro said through a yawn. “Bad for my brand.”

  Kagerō smiled quietly and turned back toward the dim light pushing through the cracks in the window.

  The day hadn't started yet.

  But it would soon.

  And this time, it might hurt.

  ------------

  ------------

  The factory courtyard had never been this lively this early.

  Dozens of children filtered in from dorms and side halls, clumping into familiar groups with sleep-stuck hair and mismatched socks. Steam curled from breakfast pots in the corner of the mess shed, but no one paid much attention. Today was the final test. Today was all about weapons.

  Kagerō stood off to the side with Dazuro, who looked freshly woken and still somehow halfway asleep. The boy leaned against a crooked pipe jutting from the wall like it held him upright through sheer will. His eyes blinked slow, thoughtful.

  “Do you think it’ll be like a market stall?” Dazuro muttered.

  Kagerō tilted his head. “Huh?”

  “The weapons,” Dazuro yawned. “Like, rows of swords and stuff. Do we pick one or… duel for it?”

  Before Kagerō could answer, a sudden weight hit his back.

  “There you are!” Yuni’s voice chimed, loud and far too cheerful for the hour. “Tch. You’re both hiding like the moody boys in a storybook. Come on! Big day! Swords! Knives! Pointy things!”

  Kagerō blinked. “Good morning.”

  Yuni grinned and bounced around to stand in front of them, arms wide. “It is a good morning! Because we finally get to choose our weapons! We’ll be real shinobi now. No more leaf-sticking and tile-stepping. Real metal.”

  Dazuro scratched his head. “Or fake metal, if the budget’s bad.”

  Yuni ignored him and turned to Kagerō, eyes sparkling. “So. What are you going to pick?”

  Kagerō paused. “...I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” she gasped like he’d committed a moral crime. “You? Mr. Obsessed-With-Training-And-Mysterious-Diagrams? You don’t have a preferred weapon?!”

  He shook his head. “I’ve tried chakra strings… wall-walking... balancing chakra on my hands. But nothing really... clicked.”

  Yuni made a dramatic show of collapsing into her knees, pretending to weep. “I can’t believe this. My honorary little brother… weaponless.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t pick anything,” Kagerō muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Just... not sure yet.”

  From a few paces away, a new voice cleared its throat. “It’s not that surprising. He’s too small to wield most weapons properly anyway.”

  Rei stood stiffly near a beam, pretending he hadn’t been lingering for the last few minutes listening in.

  Kagerō turned to him, expression open. “Want to join us?”

  Rei hesitated, just for a second. Then he walked over, chin high, arms folded.

  “I’m only here because the snotty one invited me,” he declared.

  Yuni blinked. “Snotty—?”

  “He means me,” Kagerō said before she could erupt.

  Yuni narrowed her eyes. “Wow. Big words for someone who spent ten minutes yesterday explaining the molecular weight of his own chakra.”

  “It’s called precision!” Rei snapped.

  “It’s called ego!” she shot back, grinning.

  “Children,” Dazuro murmured, half-asleep. “Please. It’s too early.”

  Kagerō stepped between them, quietly clearing his throat. “Anyway… what are you all choosing?”

  Yuni perked up instantly. “I want double daggers! Something flashy! You know, swish swish—stab! Like the rogue princesses in stories. No long weapons. I’d trip.”

  Rei rolled his eyes. “Of course. Something impractical and theatrical.”

  “And what about you?” Yuni turned, hands on hips.

  Rei hesitated. “...I was trained in straight-blade kenjutsu. It’s the foundation of the Rain style. So probably a chokutō.”

  “Oooh, clan training,” Yuni said, mock-impressed. “So fancy.”

  Rei’s ears turned red. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You never say it. You just act like it.”

  Kagerō glanced toward the rising sun, gold streaking across the rusted beams and pooling like honey on cracked cement. His hand moved absently to his chest.

  “I wonder,” he murmured, “if I’m not choosing because I don’t want to kill with it.”

  That made them all pause.

  Dazuro glanced sideways. “You think we’re picking tools, huh?”

  “Aren’t we?” Kagerō asked.

  “No,” Yuni said softly, suddenly serious. “We’re picking extensions. Parts of ourselves. The piece they’ll expect us to become.”

  Rei didn’t say anything at first. But then, his voice came quiet and clipped.

  “They want to know what kind of blade we’ll be. Not just what we carry.”

  The air thickened for a moment, heavy with something unsaid.

  Then Yuni clapped her hands.

  “Which is why I’m going full dramatic rogue princess. Let them underestimate me. And when they do—bam!” She punched the air.

  Dazuro yawned. “Bam?”

  “Silent bam. You wouldn’t hear it.”

  Kagerō smiled faintly.

  This was the calm before the storm. He didn’t know what the test would be. But it wouldn’t be just about metal.

  And he had a feeling none of them would leave it the same.