The early morning mist blanketed the quiet hilltop, soft and silver in the rising light. Dew sparkled on the grass like tiny diamonds, and a cool breeze swept through the maple trees lining the edge of the small training yard behind a modest wooden home.
Three figures stood in that mist, unmoving.
Tora Kaminari—broad-shouldered and built like a stone furnace—stood in the center. His arms were folded across his chest, and his brow was furrowed in sharp disapproval. Beside him stood two nine year old boys, shirtless and sweaty, panting slightly from the last round of exercises.
"Again," Tora barked.
Shinji groaned, resting the wooden practice sword on his shoulder. "Come on, Tora-san, we've done this form twenty-three times already."
Tora turned slowly, one eye twitching. "Did you *count* them instead of focusing on your stance?"
Shinji opened his mouth.
Denki snorted beside him. "He counted all of them. Out loud."
"You traitor," Shinji muttered.
"I raised you well," Tora said to Denki with a hint of pride. "But I'll drop you both in the river if I see one more sloppy slash."
Denki rolled his shoulders, his breath steady despite the sweat dripping down his chest. "It's not fair that you're an elite level combat master and also my dad,we'll have to go through this harsh training every day"
"You forgot * Thunder Commander of the Shadowblades,*" Shinji added with mock reverence.
Tora cracked his neck. "Kaminari Sōchō," he corrected, his voice dropping into something weightier. "Don't forget the title. Your enemies certainly won't."
Shinji and Denki exchanged grins. They loved this.
For weeks now, Tora had taken it upon himself to train them outside of academy hours. What started as casual weekend sessions had quickly turned into grueling daily regimens that made their bones ache but sharpened their bodies and minds.
At first, they were both hesitant to train with him. But that faded quickly. Tora, though strict, treated them both fairly. He pushed hard but praised harder when it was earned.
Today's focus was synergy—combining techniques under pressure.
"Again!" Tora shouted.
Shinji flared his Jinki, his aura burning red-gold as he yelled: "**Infernal Rage!**"
Denki's body lit up in arcs of violet light. "**Thunder Flash!**"
The two moved in unison. Shinji leapt into the air, fire trailing from his blade, while Denki zipped forward like a lightning bolt, aiming for the imaginary target Tora had drawn in the dirt with his staff.
Their timing was nearly perfect. Nearly.
Shinji's swing came a heartbeat too early and Denki's dash flared too wide. The result was a clumsy collision, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and yelps.
"I blame you," Shinji said from under Denki.
"Your face distracted me!"
"Flattering, but move."
Tora walked over, looming like a thundercloud. "You both would be dead."
Shinji groaned. "We're getting better."
"You're getting cocky."
Denki stood and brushed off his pants. "I can't help it if I inherited your charm."
"You inherited your mother's sass. Now get up."
---
As they reset their positions, the screen door to the house slid open with a firm *thwack*.
"I know I heard you shouting again!" came a voice sharp as a blade but warm like sunlight.
**Sazumi**, Denki's mother, stepped out onto the porch, apron tied neatly around her waist, yellow hair pinned back, and eyes that shimmered with equal parts love and impending danger. She was beautiful in that classic, terrifying motherly way—the kind of beauty that could make flowers bloom or force an entire room of rowdy warriors to sit up straight with one raised eyebrow.
Tora paled slightly. "Ah. Sazumi."
Shinji stiffened. "She's here."
Denki whispered, "Don't panic. Don't talk. Don't look her directly in the eye."
Sazumi pointed a cooking spoon toward the training field. "Lunch is ready. Come in before it gets cold."
Denki hesitated. "Mom, we're still training."
"We can eat later!" Shinji chimed in quickly. "The form's just starting to feel natural."
Sazumi didn't move. But her *aura* did.
The very air grew dense. The trees rustled nervously.
Tora, battle-scarred commander of legend, stepped back. "They should eat," he said quickly. "Can't train on an empty stomach."
Denki sighed. "Traitor."
Sazumi's smile was serene but her aura boiled with unspoken menace. "I said *now.*"
"Coming!" both boys chorused, dropping their swords and scrambling like frightened deer.
---
### **The Kaminari Table**
Inside, the house was modest and warm. Wooden floors, hand-carved furniture, and scrolls on the walls depicting thunder gods and ancestral dragons. The table was laid out with steaming bowls of miso, grilled fish, pickled vegetables and rice soaked in sweet soy glaze.
Shinji was halfway through his second bowl of rice before remembering to say, "Thank you for the meal, Sazumi-san!"
She gave him a gentle smile. "You're very welcome, Shinji. You need to eat more. You're still scrawny."
"He's growing," Denki muttered through a mouthful of tofu.
"Into a flaming stick," Tora added, snorting.
Shinji ignored them both and went for more rice.
"So," Sazumi asked between sips of tea, "how was the training?"
"Good," Denki said. "We're getting our timing down."
"Tora pushed us harder today," Shinji added, mouth full. "We almost pulled off a combo strike."
Sazumi smiled at her husband. "Not too hard, I hope?"
"They're boys," Tora said. "They'll bounce back."
"They better," Sazumi said, rising with her empty bowl. "Because if they break a bone again, I'm holding *you* responsible."
Tora waved her off. "They're tougher now."
Just as Shinji reached for his third helping of miso soup, a shadow fell over the doorway.
Everyone turned as a cloaked figure appeared silently in the doorway. His uniform was tight, black, and bore the crescent insignia of the Shadowblades—elite operatives of the outer provinces.
The figure bowed respectfully. "Sōchō-sama. A matter has arisen. We require your insight."
Tora stood instantly, his expression hardening into the soldier mask Shinji hadn't seen since their first sparring match. "Understood."
"Apologies for interrupting your meal," the Shadowblade added.
Sazumi stepped forward, arms crossed. "At least have some tea before vanishing into mystery again."
"No time," Tora said but suddenly felt a cold chill as he felt his wife's aura spike."fine"He said as he took the cup and drank it. He turned to Denki and Shinji. "Keep training. I'll be back before sundown."
And with that, he followed the Shadowblade into the forest, vanishing without a sound.
---
With Tora gone, the boys wasted no time. They cleared the yard, checked their grips, and began again—first with warmups, then technique drills, then sparring.
Shinji tried combining **Infernal Rage** with footwork he'd seen Tora use in their last three-person spar. He imagined heat flowing from his lungs to his limbs, extending into the tip of the wooden blade.
Denki focused on compressing **Thunder Flash**, trying to shave off fractions of a second in his movement.
They began practicing advanced counters—Shinji using rapid flaming parries, Denki dancing around him in flashes, each one testing their limits without overstepping.
"Again," Shinji said.
"Hit me this time," Denki grinned.
"You wish."
The air around them began to ripple from the intensity of their movements. It was far from perfect, but it was progress. Real, tangible progress.
They pushed into the late afternoon, sweat dripping, shirts clinging to their skin, breath coming in heavy bursts.
At one point, Shinji managed a perfect **Infernal Slash**, the wooden sword flaring so hot it left a visible afterimage. Denki responded with a feint and turned mid-flash to land a tap on Shinji's shoulder.
"Draw again?" Denki panted.
"Let's call it a draw before I collapse."
---
As the sun sank toward the treetops, casting golden light over the grass, Shinji stood in the middle of the field, sword raised, and tried once more.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Focused.
He whispered: "**Katsuenjin... come to me.**"
For a moment, the air shimmered. The heat in his chest pulsed with life.
But no weapon appeared
Still... he smiled.
Because the *spark* had been brighter this time.
He could feel it now. Closer than ever.
And in the trees above, Sazumi watched with folded arms, smiling softly.
[Just a few more stones to our goal,4 more to go so don't be stingy and bless me with Powerstones]