Ren had discovered that chakra was much easier to understand than it was to control.
The problem wasn’t knowing what he wanted to do.
The problem was getting his body to cooperate.
He sat cross-legged in the dojo yard before sunrise, wooden sword resting across his knees.
The world was quiet.
Snow covered the ground in a thin white layer, and his breath came out in small clouds.
Ren closed his eyes.
Breathe.
Relax.
Don’t force it.
Daichi’s voice echoed in his memory.
“Chakra is not strength.”
Ren searched for the familiar warmth inside him.
There.
Faint.
He gathered it slowly.
Instead of pushing, he let it move.
His breathing became steadier.
The warmth traveled down his arm.
Into his hand.
Then toward the wooden sword.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Ren waited.
The chakra remained.
A tiny success.
Ren smiled.
“Still got it.”
“You’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes.”
Ren opened one eye.
Daichi stood nearby.
Ren looked at the sky.
“That long?”
“Yes.”
“I was meditating.”
“You were staring at a stick.”
“Advanced meditation.”
Daichi shook his head.
“How long did you maintain it?”
Ren looked at the sword.
“About fifteen seconds.”
“Good.”
Ren blinked.
That was unusually positive.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Ren’s smile grew.
Daichi crouched beside him.
“Your control is improving.”
Ren looked pleased.
“But your reserves are still limited.”
The smile became smaller.
“I know.”
“And when you become tired, your control gets worse.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t spend everything at once.”
Ren nodded.
Daichi tapped the wooden sword.
“Chakra isn’t a replacement for skill.”
Ren looked at him.
“It’s another tool.”
“Exactly.”
Ren considered that.
“So I shouldn’t use it to make up for bad swordsmanship.”
“Correct.”
“But I can use it to make good swordsmanship better.”
Daichi nodded.
“Within your limits.”
Ren smiled.
“See?
We’re making progress.”
“We?”
“Obviously.”
Daichi stood.
“Get up.”
Ren groaned.
“I knew there was a catch.”
Training had changed over the past few months.
Not dramatically.
Ren wasn’t suddenly capable of cutting through trees or throwing people across the yard.
He was six.
His body was still a child’s body.
But his movements were becoming cleaner.
His balance was better.
His endurance had improved.
His chakra reserves were slowly growing with him, while his control was improving faster.
Most importantly, Ren had started understanding how the different pieces connected.
Swordsmanship taught him movement.
Chakra taught him awareness.
His old life had taught him to analyze systems.
Daichi had taught him to watch people.
Together, they were becoming something useful.
Ren raised his wooden sword.
Daichi pointed toward the older trainee waiting across the yard.
“Your turn.”
Ren looked at the boy.
He was almost four years older.
Taller.
Heavier.
Stronger.
Ren looked back at Daichi.
“You’re putting me against him?”
“Yes.”
“Do I get a head start?”
“No.”
“An emotional handicap?”
“No.”
“Snacks?”
“No.”
Ren sighed.
“You’re very difficult to negotiate with.”
“Begin.”
The older boy moved first.
A straightforward strike.
Ren stepped back.
The wooden sword passed in front of his chest.
Another attack.
Ren blocked.
The impact traveled through his arms.
He retreated another step.
The boy pressed forward.
Ren watched him.
Not the sword.
The body.
Shoulder.
Hip.
Front foot.
Weight.
The next attack came.
Ren moved before the sword completed its arc.
He slipped to the side.
The boy turned.
Ren saw the opening.
He moved inside the reach of the wooden sword and struck the boy’s wrist.
The older trainee’s grip loosened.
Ren struck again.
The wooden sword flew from his hand.
It landed in the snow.
Silence.
Ren stood there.
The older boy stared at his empty hands.
Ren looked at the wooden sword in his own hand.
Then at Daichi.
“Did I just…?”
“Yes.”
“I won?”
“Yes.”
Ren slowly looked around the training yard.
Several students were staring.
The younger children had stopped what they were doing.
One of the older trainees had lowered his sword.
Ren raised the wooden weapon slightly.
“I would like to thank my fans.”
The older boy’s face twisted.
“What?”
Ren immediately lowered the sword.
“Nothing.”
A few students laughed.
Daichi covered his mouth.
Ren narrowed his eyes.
He is definitely hiding a smile.
That was almost more satisfying than the victory.
Almost.
The fight wasn’t impressive because Ren had overpowered someone.
He hadn’t.
The older trainee was still stronger.
If Ren had tried to meet him force for force, he would have lost.
Instead, Ren had waited.
Watched.
Recognized the movement.
Then acted.
That was what Daichi had been teaching him.
And now other people had seen it.
The younger children crowded around him almost immediately.
“How did you do that?”
“Did you see his hand?”
“Can you do it again?”
“Can I try?”
Ren laughed.
“One at a time.”
He picked up the older student’s sword and handed it back.
“You moved your shoulder before the strike.”
The boy looked confused.
“My shoulder?” New chapters come out on g.com first.
“Yeah.”
Ren demonstrated.
“When you moved it, your weight shifted.”
The boy looked at his own stance.
Ren continued.
“Your sword was basically announcing what it was going to do.”
One of the younger boys laughed.
“Swords can’t talk.”
“That one can.”
Ren pointed at the older student’s weapon.
“It’s extremely loud.”
The older boy gave him a suspicious look.
Ren grinned.
“Metaphorically.”
By the end of training, Ren had gathered an audience.
Not a large one.
But enough.
A couple of younger students wanted to spar with him.
One wanted to learn the disarm.
Another simply wanted to know whether Ren could really predict every attack.
Ren immediately corrected him.
“No.”
The boy blinked.
“No?”
“I can’t predict everything.”
“But you predicted his attack.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Ren tapped his temple.
“You look for patterns.”
The boy stared at him.
Ren shrugged.
“Or you get hit until you figure them out.”
That earned a laugh.
Ren liked this.
More than he wanted to admit.
He liked explaining things.
He liked people listening.
He liked being good at something.
And, perhaps most dangerously, he liked being recognized for it.
That last part felt familiar.
In his previous life, he had known what it was like to have an audience.
A stream chat.
Viewers.
People waiting for him to perform.
Here there was no screen.
No microphone.
No subscriber count.
Just a group of children standing around a training yard.
But the feeling was strangely similar.
Maybe I’m actually good at this.
Ren looked down at his wooden sword.
No.
He corrected himself.
I’m definitely getting good at this.
The thought made him smile.
Then another thought appeared.
Maybe I’m better than some of the older students.
Ren stopped.
That sounded arrogant.
He considered it.
Then shrugged internally.
It’s not arrogance if it’s true.
He immediately realized that was exactly the kind of thought Daichi would dislike.
Ren smiled anyway.
Yuki found him later sitting on the orphanage steps.
He was still holding the wooden sword.
She looked at him.
Then at the sword.
Then back at him.
“You’re smiling.”
“I won.”
“I heard.”
“People talk fast.”
“You disarmed one person.”
“An older person.”
Yuki sat beside him.
“You’re six.”
“Exactly.”
She stared.
Ren grinned.
“Very impressive, right?”
“You’re becoming annoying.”
“Becoming?”
Yuki shook her head.
Ren laughed.
She glanced at the sword.
“How did you do it?”
Ren explained.
She listened.
When he finished, she nodded.
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay.”
“You sound proud.”
“I am.”
Yuki smiled.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then she asked:
“Are you going to become a samurai?”
Ren looked toward the dojo.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what I want to become yet.”
Yuki frowned.
“I thought you wanted to become strong.”
“I do.”
“Then?”
Ren looked at his hand.
A tiny amount of chakra moved through his fingers.
He felt it.
Then it faded.
“I want to understand this world.”
Yuki looked at him.
Ren continued.
“And if I can get strong while doing it, that’s convenient.”
She smiled.
“You’re weird.”
“That has been established.”
Daichi found Ren later that afternoon.
He was sitting in the workshop, attempting to repair a small mechanism he’d taken apart earlier.
Daichi looked at the scattered pieces.
“What’s that?”
“Failure.”
Daichi raised an eyebrow.
“It’s supposed to be a pulley adjustment.”
“It doesn’t look like one.”
“That’s because it’s currently in its abstract phase.”
Daichi looked at him.
Ren sighed.
“It’s broken.”
“Good.”
Ren stared.
“Why is that good?”
“Because you can learn from it.”
Ren smiled.
“You’ve been talking to me too much.”
Daichi sat down.
“You did well today.”
Ren looked up.
“Thank you.”
“But don’t let one victory change how you train.”
Ren nodded.
“I won’t.”
“You were using chakra during the spar.”
“A little.”
“How much?”
“Not much.”
Daichi waited.
Ren sighed.
“Enough.”
“That’s not a measurement.”
“It was efficient.”
Daichi gave him a flat look.
Ren smiled.
“Fine.
I used a small amount in my legs and arms.”
“Why?”
“Better balance.
Faster recovery.”
Daichi nodded.
“That was sensible.”
Ren looked pleased.
“But?”
“There is always a but.”
“Your control still drops when you become excited.”
Ren’s smile faded.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Daichi leaned forward.
“You become impatient when you see an opening.”
Ren thought about it.
He couldn’t deny it.
“I want to take it before it disappears.”
“That’s natural.”
“So what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing.”
Daichi paused.
“Until you stop seeing the difference between an opening and a trap.”
Ren went quiet.
That was a much better answer.
Daichi continued.
“Chakra can make you faster.”
“It can make your movements stronger.”
Ren nodded.
“But it doesn’t make your decisions better.”
Ren looked at the wooden sword beside him.
That sentence stayed with him.
“Control first.”
Daichi nodded.
“Power later.”
Ren smiled.
“You’re very good at making simple things sound important.”
“Because you keep trying to make them complicated.”
“That’s also a skill.”
Daichi shook his head.
But this time, Ren caught the faint smile.
Kenichi had watched the spar.
He had also watched everything that came afterward.
The younger students gathering around Ren.
The questions.
The laughter.
Daichi speaking with him.
Ren sitting on the steps with Yuki, looking pleased with himself.
None of it was new.
That was what bothered him.
It was becoming normal.
Kenichi had spent years training at Daichi’s dojo.
He knew the forms.
He knew the rules.
He knew how Daichi taught.
He had earned praise slowly.
One correction at a time.
One improvement at a time.
And now Ren was receiving attention simply because he learned differently.
Kenichi hated the thought.
He hated it even more because he knew Ren wasn’t doing it deliberately.
That almost made it worse.
If Ren had been arrogant from the beginning, Kenichi could have hated him easily.
But Ren laughed.
He asked questions.
He made stupid jokes.
He helped younger students.
He trained hard.
He didn’t act as though he was stealing anything.
Yet somehow, every time Daichi stopped to correct Ren, Kenichi felt as though something was being taken away from him.
He tightened his grip around his wooden sword.
He’s only six.
That should have made it easier.
Instead, it made it worse.
Because if Ren was already this good now…
What would he become later?
Ren found Kenichi near the dojo before evening.
He slowed.
“Hey.”
Kenichi looked at him.
“Hey.”
Ren noticed the stiffness in his voice.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“That sounded convincing.”
Kenichi said nothing.
Ren hesitated.
Then:
“You saw the spar?”
“Yes.”
“Pretty good, right?”
Kenichi’s expression tightened.
Ren immediately realized that perhaps he had chosen the wrong words.
“Sorry.”
Kenichi looked away.
“You’ve been training for what?
A year?”
“Something like that.”
“And you’re already beating older students.”
“Sometimes.”
“You think you’re better than them.”
Ren considered the question.
“At swordsmanship?”
Kenichi looked directly at him.
Ren shrugged.
“Maybe.”
Silence.
Ren realized the answer had landed badly.
He tried to fix it.
“I mean, I’m better at some things.”
Kenichi’s jaw tightened.
“Some things?”
“Observation.”
Ren pointed toward himself.
“I’m smaller, so I can’t exactly compete with strength.”
Kenichi said nothing.
Ren continued, honestly:
“But you’re better than me at plenty of things.”
“Like what?”
Ren thought.
“You’re stronger.”
A pause.
“More experienced.”
Another pause.
“You know how to do things I haven’t learned.”
Kenichi’s expression softened for half a second.
Then Ren added:
“But I’ll probably catch up.”
The softness vanished.
Ren froze.
“That sounded worse.”
Kenichi gave a short laugh.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You always say that.”
Ren frowned.
“Because I usually don’t.”
Kenichi looked at him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Kenichi said quietly:
“You don’t understand.”
Ren’s smile disappeared.
“Understand what?”
Kenichi looked toward the dojo.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Kenichi turned away.
“Forget it.”
He walked off.
Ren watched him leave.
He didn’t understand.
Not really.
But for the first time, he realized that Kenichi wasn’t simply annoyed by his jokes.
There was something underneath them.
Something heavier.
That night, Ren lay in bed.
He replayed the conversation.
Maybe.
He winced.
“That was probably a bad answer.”
Yuki, lying nearby, looked over.
“What was?”
“Nothing.”
“You said something.”
“To Kenichi.”
Yuki waited.
Ren explained.
When he finished, she stared at him.
“You told him you’re better than him?”
“Possibly.”
“You are.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
Ren laughed.
Then grew quiet.
“I don’t want him to hate me.”
Yuki shrugged.
“Then stop annoying him.”
Ren considered that.
“That’s difficult.”
“I know.”
Ren smiled.
Then he stared at the ceiling.
Maybe Yuki was right.
Maybe he needed to be more careful.
But another thought lingered.
He had worked hard.
He had trained.
He had learned.
He wasn’t going to pretend otherwise just because someone else was uncomfortable.
Ren closed his eyes.
A tiny pulse of chakra moved through his hand.
He focused on it.
Steady.
Controlled.
Not forcing.
Not rushing.
Just feeling it.
For a moment, he thought about what Daichi had said.
Chakra doesn’t make your decisions better.
Ren smiled faintly.
“Then I’ll just have to make better decisions.”
It sounded reasonable.
He didn’t yet understand how difficult that would become.
Outside, the dojo had gone quiet.
Kenichi was still awake.
And somewhere between admiration, insecurity, pride, and resentment, something inside him had changed.
Ren had become more than the strange orphan who trained beside him.
He had become a rival.
Ren simply hadn’t realized they were competing yet.