The morning sun filtered through the thin clouds like a golden sieve, casting dappled light over the ancient courtyard of Kaminari Academy. Birds chirped merrily in the distant trees, seemingly unaware of the pressure mounting within a particular group of adolescents nervously lining up in front of the granite steps. There, standing with his arms folded behind his back and a permanent squint carved into his brow, was Instructor Haga.
A tall man with black hair that spiked back like a flame frozen in time, Haga radiated an aura that made wild beasts think twice before snarling. The students never knew if he was scowling because of the weather, the students themselves, or just habit.
"Today," Haga began, his voice as smooth and sharp as a freshly unsheathed katana, "you will meet your soulbound weapons."
Denki, raised a hand, already grinning. "Instructor Haga, do we get to name them? Because I'm definitely calling mine 'Big Slice.'"
The class erupted into stifled giggles. Even Denji, who was usually stoic, smirked.
Instructor Haga didn't smile. He didn't even blink. "Your weapon will choose *you*. You do not name your soul weapon the same way you name a goldfish."
Denji, unabashed, nodded solemnly. "Big Slice the Goldfish. Got it."
Shinji stood near the end of the row. His dark red hair hung into his eyes, and he kept glancing at Denki, his best friend since childhood. Denki gave him a small thumbs-up. It didn't help much.
Haga continued. "Each of you possesses a unique energy, known as **Jinki**—the essence of your soul. When properly focused, your Jinki will call forth a weapon that resonates with your very being. This weapon is not simply a tool. It is a partner. A reflection of you."
"So... like a magical mood ring but with more stabbing," muttered Inazuma from the back.
"Correct," Haga said dryly. "Except if your mood ring doesn't like you, it will not appear at all."
Shinji swallowed hard.
---
### The Weapon Chamber
Haga led them to the Meditation Chamber—a round stone building humming softly with an energy that made the hair on everyone's arms stand at attention. Inside, the air smelled of cedar, incense, and faint electricity.
The walls were lined with ancient weapons, though none could be touched. These were remnants of past Jinki manifestations, ethereal echoes of Shadowblades long gone.
"Sit. Close your eyes," Haga instructed.
The students obeyed, settling on the circular cushions arranged in a mandala pattern around the center glyph. As they closed their eyes, a hush fell over the chamber.
"Breathe in. Feel the Jinki within you stir," Haga said. His voice was calm now, low and rhythmic. "Your soul is calling. Listen."
As they meditated, something began to shift in the room. A soft wind picked up, though no windows were open. Threads of golden light began weaving through the air, dancing over each student like curious sprites.
One by one, students began to glow with a color unique to them.
Denji's aura sparked like lightning. Suddenly, he leapt up, eyes wide, and shouted: "**Raitokiba!**"
A blinding flash. From thin air, to claw-like fangs crackling with electric energy appeared in his hands. The class gasped.
"Whoa," Denki breathed, "that's so cool!"
Hinari was next. Her body shimmered with a calm, Golden light. Her lips parted and she whispered: "**Raikama...**"
With a sound like thunder roaring , a long golden scythe materialized in front of her, glinting with elegance and lethality.
Inazuma called out, "**Raikoken!**" and a hulking hammer landed at his feet with a ground-shaking *thud*.
One after another, weapons appeared—elegant, deadly, and unmistakably *right*. The students cheered, gasped, or blinked in awe. Some cried.
And then there was Shinji.
Nothing.
No glow, no aura, no whisper from the depths.
He opened one eye. Then the other. Looked around.
Everyone was summoning their weapon, laughing, celebrating, exchanging awestruck stares. Denki had summoned a blade of lightning with a white handle with three golden diamond patternsand white sheath with a golden blade called **Raijinjin**, which crackled with intense lightning.
Shinji panicked.
"Uh... uh... okay, okay, okay," he mumbled, scrambling to his feet. "Let's try this."
He stood in the middle of the circle, cleared his throat, and shouted:
"**Hiōken!**" Nothing.
"**Enjinmaru!**" Nothing.
"**Fire... Slice?**" he added, praying that Denki's bad naming habit might work by divine accident.
Still nothing.
Just silence. And then a cricket. A real cricket. It hopped onto his shoe and chirped sympathetically.
"Oh, come on!" he cried. "I *like* fire! Fire likes me!"
Shinji sighed, face redder than lava. "Why do *you all* know your weapons' names?"
Denji, rubbing the back of his neck, shrugged. "We just... know. It's like the name floats into your head. Like meeting someone you already knew."
Haga stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "The weapon will not appear until your soul is ready to receive it. You cannot fake resonance. Nor can you force it."
"But I *want* it," Shinji whispered. "I need it."
Haga simply turned. "Class dismissed. Shinji, come back tomorrow. We'll try again."
---
### The Walk Home
That evening, Shinji walked with Denki down the cobbled path that led toward their shared housing unit on the eastern slope of the academy grounds. Fireflies buzzed lazily around them, and the air was thick with summer.
"You know," Denki offered, "it doesn't mean anything bad."
"I'm the only one," Shinji said, slumping. "Everyone else got some crazy ancestral katana or a hammer made of meteors or whatever. I got embarrassment."
Denki chuckled. "To be fair, you've always had that."
Shinji shot him a look.
"Hey, I'm kidding. Mostly. You're strong, Shinji. Maybe your weapon is just shy."
"Shy?"
"Yeah. Maybe it's like... a cat. You ever try calling a cat by name? It just stares at you like you're stupid and then walks away."
"Great. So my soul weapon is a cat."
"A fire cat."
"A flaming cat that ignores me."
They both burst into laughter, the tension finally breaking like a snapped violin string. Shinji wiped his eyes, half-laughing, half-crying.
"I just—" he hesitated, then said it. "I feel like if I can't summon my weapon... maybe I don't *belong* here."
Denki stopped. "Don't say that."
"Why not? Everyone else had their moment. Denji's claws could probably power a city. Hinari's scythe looked like it could slice the school in half. Even Inazuma's hammer scared the crap out of a bird mid-flight."
Denki grinned. "It did! That bird did a barrel roll mid-air and everything."
"I'm just... average."
Denki turned to him, serious now. "You're not average, Shinji. You're *you*. The most stubborn, overthinking, kind-hearted, secretly-talented weirdo I know. You don't need a glowing sword to prove that."
Shinji didn't reply. But he smiled.
---
### That Night
Shinji lay awake staring at the ceiling. Shadows danced across the stone walls. The sound of wind in the trees outside played like a lullaby he couldn't follow.
He got up quietly, barefoot, and stepped outside. The sky was clear, stars scattered like glitter across velvet.
He sat by the koi pond near the temple. Closed his eyes.
"I don't know if you're listening," he murmured. "But... if you are, weapon, soul partner, whatever you are... I'm ready. Or at least I want to be. Please."
Nothing happened.
Except the water rippled. Just once. Then stillness.
Shinji didn't summon his weapon that night. Nor the next morning. But something inside him had changed.
Maybe the weapon hadn't spoken yet because he wasn't ready
[Sorry for not posting throughout last week,i'll try to maker it up this week.We're just 4 Powerstones away from our goal so don't be stingy and bless me with your stones ]