Ren had spent most of his life knowing what chakra was.
That did not mean he knew how to use it.
Knowing something from a screen and making it happen inside your own body were two very different problems.
Ren discovered that on his first attempt.
He sat cross-legged beneath a tree behind the orphanage, eyes closed, back straight, and hands resting on his knees.
He breathed in.
Then out.
Nothing happened.
Ren frowned without opening his eyes.
Maybe I’m doing it wrong.
He tried again.
In.
Out.
Still nothing.
A bird chirped somewhere above him.
Ren opened one eye.
“Are you mocking me?”
The bird continued chirping.
Ren narrowed his eyes.
“Rude.”
He closed his eye again.
Back to chakra.
The problem was that Ren had never actually been taught how to feel chakra.
He knew the theory.
Every shinobi had chakra.
Chakra came from physical and spiritual energy.
It could be molded and controlled.
He knew the hand seals.
He knew some famous techniques.
He knew the words.
What he didn’t have was experience.
There was no convenient tutorial window hovering in front of him.
No friendly narrator explaining:
Congratulations!
You have unlocked Chakra Control.
His body had apparently decided that if he wanted chakra, he could figure it out himself.
Ren wasn’t particularly impressed.
“Come on.”
He sat there for another few minutes.
Nothing.
He tried focusing on his stomach.
Nothing.
His chest.
Nothing.
His hands.
Nothing.
He tried imagining energy flowing through his body.
Still nothing.
Eventually his legs went numb.
Ren opened his eyes.
“Fantastic.”
He stretched his legs out.
“I’ve successfully learned how to make my feet stop working.”
A voice came from behind him.
“You’re doing too much.”
Ren nearly jumped.
Daichi stood several steps away.
Ren looked at him.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
Ren sighed.
He was beginning to suspect Daichi enjoyed this.
“What am I doing wrong?”
Daichi looked at the boy sitting beneath the tree.
“You’re trying to force something you don’t understand.”
“I understand chakra.”
“You understand the idea of chakra.”
Ren went quiet.
Daichi continued.
“That is not the same thing.”
Ren looked at his hands.
That sounded annoyingly familiar.
“You said something similar when I started sword training.”
“I remember.”
“You really like making me learn the same lesson twice.”
Daichi’s expression remained calm.
“Then perhaps you should learn it the first time.”
Ren stared at him.
Then laughed.
“Fair.”
Daichi walked closer.
“Don’t chase the feeling.”
“What should I do?”
“Listen to your body.”
Ren frowned.
“My body is currently telling me that sitting on the ground is uncomfortable.”
“Then stop sitting.”
“That’s not what you meant.”
“No.”
Ren smiled.
Daichi pointed toward the dojo.
“Your sword training taught you to notice movement before the strike.
Chakra is no different.
You don’t begin by forcing it.
You learn to recognize it.”
Ren thought about that.
Movement.
Weight.
Breathing.
Patterns.
That made sense.
At least theoretically.
Daichi turned away.
“Try again tomorrow.”
Ren looked up.
“You’re not going to teach me?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because you haven’t learned how to listen.”
Ren watched him walk away.
Then looked at the tree.
“Everyone in this place talks like they’re delivering ancient wisdom.”
The bird chirped again.
Ren pointed at it.
“You’re not included.”
The next few days were frustrating.
Ren stopped trying to force chakra into his hands.
Instead, he paid attention.
He listened to his breathing.
He felt his heartbeat.
He noticed the tension in his muscles.
The weight of his body against the ground.
The cold air entering his lungs.
The warmth leaving them.
At first, there was nothing unusual.
Then one morning, something changed.
Barely.
A sensation deep inside his stomach.
Warm.
Faint.
Gone almost immediately.
Ren’s eyes opened.
He sat perfectly still.
What was that?
He closed his eyes again.
Waited.
Nothing.
He tried to recreate the sensation.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Ren frowned.
“Come on.”
He waited.
The warmth returned.
Only for a moment.
This time, he noticed it.
It wasn’t heat exactly.
It felt more like having another current moving beneath everything else.
Something connected to him.
Something he could almost reach.
Ren smiled.
“There you are.”
It took another week before he could reliably feel it.
Another week after that before he could move it.
Even then, “move” was generous.
The first time Ren tried directing chakra toward his hand, he felt a strange pressure build in his arm.
He pushed harder.
The sensation vanished.
Ren stared at his palm.
“…That’s it?”
He tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Again.
A tiny pulse of warmth.
Ren grinned.
“Got you.”
The warmth disappeared.
Ren’s grin vanished.
“Come back.”
Nothing.
“You can’t just do that.”
Still nothing.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Eventually, he gave up and went to breakfast.
Yuki looked at him.
“Why are you staring at your hand?”
“Chakra.”
She paused.
“You’re still doing that?”
“Yes.”
“How’s it going?”
Ren considered the question.
“I think I almost have it.”
“That’s what you said three days ago.”
“I was almost right.”
Yuki shook her head.
“You’ve been sitting under that tree every morning.”
“Training.”
“You’re sitting.”
“Training while sitting.”
“You’re strange.”
“I’ve heard that.”
She pushed a bowl toward him.
“Eat.”
Ren looked at the food.
Then at his hand.
Then back at the food.
“Fine.”
Yuki smiled.
“Good.”
Ren picked up his chopsticks.
His chakra problem could wait.
Breakfast couldn’t.
The breakthrough came at night.
Ren sat on his bed with his eyes closed.
The orphanage was quiet.
Children slept around him.
The wind brushed against the wooden walls.
Ren breathed slowly.
He didn’t try to force anything.
He simply listened.
Heartbeat.
Breath.
Muscles.
Warmth.
Then he felt it.
That faint current beneath everything else.
Ren reached toward it.
Not with his hand.
With his awareness.
The sensation moved.
Barely.
A tiny thread of energy traveled from his stomach toward his chest.
Ren’s breathing caught.
The thread vanished.
He opened his eyes.
His heart was pounding.
“Again.”
He closed his eyes.
This time, he was more careful.
He found the warmth.
Reached for it.
Moved it.
A little farther.
Then a little more.
The sensation was so faint that he might have imagined it.
But it was there.
Ren smiled.
He had found it.
His chakra.
Not someone else’s.
Not something he’d watched in an anime.
His.
Real.
He spent the next hour trying to repeat it.
Most attempts failed.
Some barely worked.
One gave him a headache.
Another left his arm tingling.
But gradually, Ren began to understand.
Chakra wasn’t something he could simply order around.
It responded to attention.
Breathing.
Intent.
Control.
And his body was still learning the language.
That realization excited him more than the success itself.
He had something to learn.
Something real.
Something no memory from his previous life could simply hand him.
A few days later, Ren found an old leaf.
He held it between his fingers.
“Let’s see if this works.”
Yuki looked over from her bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re holding a leaf.”
“That’s part of the nothing.”
Yuki stared at him.
Ren closed his eyes.
He focused on the warmth inside him.
He guided it slowly.
Not too much.
Not too fast.
Toward his hand.
The leaf trembled.
Ren’s eyes opened.
It stopped.
He froze.
“Did you see that?”
Yuki looked at the leaf.
“See what?”
“It moved.”
“You moved your hand.”
“I didn’t.”
“You probably did.”
Ren stared at her.
Then at the leaf.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
His shoulders sagged.
“Maybe I imagined it.”
Yuki leaned closer.
“Try again.”
Ren looked at her.
She shrugged.
“Maybe it really moved.”
Ren smiled.
“You’re finally learning.”
“I take it back.”
Ren laughed.
He closed his eyes again.
Breathe.
Feel.
Guide.
The leaf twitched.
His eyes flew open.
It twitched again.
Ren stared.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then his face broke into a huge grin.
“I did it.”
Yuki smiled.
“You did.”
Ren looked at the tiny leaf in his hand.
It was barely an accomplishment.
A twitch.
Nothing more.
But it was proof.
His chakra was real.
And he could control it.
Ren laughed.
He had to clamp a hand over his mouth when Yuki shushed him.
“Everyone’s sleeping.”
“Sorry.”
“You’ve said that three times.”
“I know.”
Ren looked at the leaf again.
His smile returned.
“Still worth it.”
The next morning, Ren told Daichi.
The old samurai listened without interrupting.
“So you felt your chakra.”
Ren nodded.
“And moved it.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Ren hesitated.
“Not much.”
“Good.”
Ren blinked.
“Good?”
Daichi nodded.
“That means you understand your limits.”
Ren smiled.
“That’s almost encouraging.”
“Almost.”
Daichi took a wooden sword from the rack.
“Show me.”
Ren stared at him.
“With the sword?”
“Yes.”
Ren took the sword.
Daichi pointed toward the training yard.
“Move.”
Ren stepped forward.
He breathed.
Felt his chakra.
He guided a small amount toward his legs.
His body felt slightly lighter.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to notice.
He moved.
His footwork was a little quicker.
Daichi watched carefully.
Ren tried to push more chakra into his legs.
The sensation vanished.
His balance broke.
He stumbled.
Daichi caught the wooden sword before it hit the ground.
“Too much.”
Ren steadied himself.
“Yeah.”
“Again.”
Ren raised the sword.
This time, he used less.
A tiny amount.
His movement improved.
Daichi nodded.
“Better.”
Ren grinned.
He had done almost nothing.
A little chakra.
A little movement.
A little control.
But that was enough.
Kenichi had been watching from the other side of the yard.
He hadn’t heard the conversation.
He didn’t know exactly what Ren was doing.
But he’d noticed something.
Ren was changing.
The boy who had once struggled to hold his stance now moved with more confidence.
His questions hadn’t stopped.
If anything, there were more of them.
And Daichi was spending more time correcting him personally.
Kenichi didn’t resent it.
Not yet.
He simply noticed.
Ren had started as the strange little orphan who watched through the fence.
Now he was one of Daichi’s students.
And he was improving.
Fast.
Kenichi looked away and returned to his own training.
It was nothing to worry about.
Not yet.
Ren’s chakra training remained painfully ordinary after that.
There were no explosions.
No glowing aura.
No dramatic transformation.
Most days consisted of Ren sitting somewhere quiet, trying to guide tiny amounts of chakra through his body without losing control.
One afternoon, Yuki found him sitting beneath the same tree.
She stared at him.
“Are you asleep?”
“No.”
“Then why aren’t you moving?”
“I’m training.”
“You’re not moving.”
“Exactly.”
Yuki frowned.
“So you’re training by not training.”
Ren opened one eye.
“That’s a surprisingly sophisticated observation.”
She picked up a pinecone and threw it at him.
Ren caught it.
“Violence against a peaceful practitioner.”
“You weren’t peaceful.”
“I was meditating.”
“You were making a weird face.”
“That was concentration.”
“It looked like constipation.”
Ren’s eyes widened.
“Yuki.”
“What?”
“I am trying to cultivate mystical energy.”
“Then cultivate better.”
She walked away.
Ren stared after her.
“That was brutal.”
He returned to his meditation.
For a moment, he smiled.
Then the word slipped into his mind.
Chat.
The smile faded.
A memory surfaced.
A monitor.
A microphone.
A stream.
Messages moving faster than he could read.
People joking with him.
People watching him fail at games.
People arguing over strategies.
People waiting for his reactions.
He remembered talking constantly.
Commenting on everything.
Turning mistakes into jokes.
Making people laugh.
Ren opened his eyes.
The memory was already fading.
He looked at the leaf in his hand.
His old life was becoming harder to hold onto.
Maybe that was normal.
Maybe it wasn’t.
Either way, he couldn’t live in it.
He closed his fingers around the leaf.
Then opened them again.
The present was still here.
Daichi.
Yuki.
The dojo.
The orphanage.
The mountains.
And now chakra.
Ren looked toward the training yard.
He smiled.
“Okay.”
He stood.
“Let’s see what this can actually do.”
He wasn’t a shinobi.
Not yet.
He wasn’t a master.
Not even close.
He was a six-year-old boy with sore muscles, limited chakra, a wooden sword, and far too many questions.
But for the first time, Ren had something his memories couldn’t give him.
A beginning.