Three years passed in the blink of an eye.
Children changed quickly.
Ryuu was no exception.
Although only three years old, his mind remained that of an adult.
Walking.
Speaking.
Reading.
Everything came naturally.
To others, he was simply an intelligent child.
Only Ryuu knew the truth.
He wasn't a genius.
He had simply lived once before.
...
The Kensei residence remained quiet.
Most of the estate had long since fallen into ruin.
The once-proud buildings were slowly being reclaimed by nature.
Wild grass covered the stone paths.
Wooden pillars creaked with age.
The training grounds were cracked and overgrown.
Yet despite the years...
His mother cleaned one place every single day.
The dojo.
Every morning, before preparing breakfast, she would sweep the wooden floor.
Dust the weapon racks.
Replace the incense before a row of ancestral tablets.
It was almost as if she refused to let the dojo die.
Ryuu often sat silently in the corner, watching her.
One morning, curiosity finally won.
"Mother."
She stopped sweeping.
"Yes?"
"Why do you clean a place no one uses?"
Silence filled the dojo.
She lowered the broom and smiled faintly.
"Because..."
"A home only truly disappears when no one remembers it."
Ryuu looked around.
The dojo was enormous.
Even after years of neglect, its craftsmanship remained breathtaking.
Dark wooden beams stretched across the ceiling.
Tatami mats covered the training floor.
Rows of wooden practice swords rested neatly upon weapon racks.
Several real swords hung upon the walls.
Each one was simple.
Elegant.
Without unnecessary decoration.
"This dojo..."
She gently ran her fingers across one of the wooden pillars.
"...was once filled with laughter."
"Children trained here from sunrise until sunset."
"The sound of swords echoed throughout the estate every day."
Her voice became softer.
"I still remember it."
Ryuu quietly listened.
For the first time...
She was speaking about the past.
"Our clan believed the sword was more than a weapon."
"It was a promise."
"A promise to protect."
"A promise to endure."
"A promise to never abandon those who depended on you."
She smiled sadly.
"That belief has never changed."
Even now.
After everything.
Ryuu noticed something.
Whenever she spoke of the clan...
She never spoke with hatred.
Only pride.
...
After breakfast...
His mother left for work.
Like many civilians within Konoha, she earned a living helping maintain village records.
Before leaving, she crouched beside him.
"Stay inside."
"I'll return before sunset."
"I know."
She smiled before gently patting his head.
"You've always been such a well-behaved child."
The door slid shut.
Silence returned.
Ryuu waited.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Only after he was certain she had left did he quietly stand.
His destination...
The dojo.
...
The moment he stepped inside, a familiar calm washed over him.
Unlike the rest of the estate...
This place felt alive.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Every wooden plank seemed to carry countless memories.
Thousands of footsteps.
Millions of sword swings.
Generations of discipline.
Ryuu walked toward the weapon rack.
Rows of wooden practice swords rested neatly against the wall.
He hesitated.
Then...
He picked one up.
It was surprisingly light.
Smooth.
Balanced.
Comfortable.
Almost as if it naturally fit within his hand.
A strange feeling spread through his chest.
Without thinking...
His body moved.
One step forward.
A downward slash.
Another step.
A horizontal swing.
Then a thrust.
Simple movements.
Crude.
Unrefined.
Yet strangely familiar.
He stopped.
"..."
Why did that feel so natural?
In his previous life, he had admired swordsmanship.
He had practiced a little as a hobby.
But never seriously.
Certainly not enough for his movements to feel this instinctive.
He frowned.
Something wasn't right.
He tried again.
This time...
He slowed every movement.
Watching.
Feeling.
Correcting.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Every swing became smoother than the last.
Sweat soaked his small clothes.
His tiny hands became red from gripping the wooden sword.
Yet he never stopped.
There was no audience.
No praise.
No reward.
Only the quiet sound of wood cutting through the air.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
The rhythm echoed throughout the empty dojo.
By the time the sun began to set...
Ryuu's arms trembled from exhaustion.
His breathing became ragged.
Finally...
He lowered the wooden sword.
"...So this is enough for today."
He carefully returned it to its place.
Just as he turned to leave—
His foot caught on something hidden beneath the tatami.
"Hm?"
He knelt down.
Curiosity flickered within his eyes.
Moving the mat aside...
He discovered a small wooden compartment.
Inside rested an old cloth bundle.
Covered in dust.
Untouched for years.
Ryuu slowly unwrapped it.
Within the cloth lay a weathered notebook.
The cover was faded.
Its edges were worn.
Across the front...
Four characters had been carefully written in black ink.
Foundations of the Sword.
Ryuu's heartbeat quickened.
He carefully opened the first page.
The handwriting was elegant.
Powerful.
The very first sentence read—
«"A swordsman who seeks strength before mastering the basics will never become a true master."»
The moment Ryuu finished reading...
A faint breeze passed through the silent dojo.
As if someone unseen had quietly approved.
Ryuu closed the book and looked around.
The dojo remained empty.
Yet for the first time...
He no longer felt alone.
Far beneath the forgotten Kensei estate...
Something ancient had begun to stir.
End of Chapter 3