The fog hung heavier in the alleys today. Renzo crouched behind a stack of crates near a bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread mixing with the damp scent of the street. The city felt alive in a different way. Each cart wheel, each hurried footstep, every whisper of conversation added to a rhythm only he seemed to notice.
I have to learn it all. Not just survive, but understand the flow. Who moves where. Who notices what. I am part of it, but I am still apart.
Luca leaned against the wall beside him. "You really can't just sit and watch all day. Someone's going to notice you."
Renzo shook his head. "Not yet. Observation comes first. Patience comes first."
"Patience won't feed you," Luca muttered. "Or protect you if someone bigger shows up."
Renzo's lips pressed into a line, and he let his gaze drift across the street. Three men in leather jackets passed by, their movements casual but deliberate. He felt the faint thrum of intent, their weight shifting with each step. Nothing dangerous yet, but careful attention could make all the difference.
A sudden shout from a side alley drew their eyes. A small boy tripped over a tin can, coins spilling from his pouch. Two older children lunged for the coins, shoving and wrestling over them. Renzo's instincts flared.
I can influence the moment, but only subtly. Ten. Zetsu. Focus.
He adjusted his breathing, expanded his awareness outward, and drew his aura lightly around him. Not to attack. Not yet. Just to sense. The boy froze for a fraction of a second longer than he would have. That small pause gave Renzo time to step forward, scooping up one coin and tossing it to the tripping boy.
The smaller child blinked in surprise, clutching it tightly before bolting away. The older ones muttered but hesitated. Renzo held his posture, calm, letting the tension in the air slow their reaction.
Luca shook his head. "You're pushing it too far."
"I'm learning," Renzo said quietly. "I need to feel how far I can go."
Later, they moved down toward the docks, past warehouses and abandoned storefronts. Renzo scanned the alleys, listening to whispers and footsteps. Patterns emerged in the chaos: delivery schedules, gang movements, minor disputes. He cataloged everything in his mind. Each footstep, each hesitation, each glance could be important.
I am not ready to use Hatsu. Not yet. But I can feel how aura flows. How intent moves through people. That is enough. For now.
A scuffle erupted near the edge of the docks. Three small-time thieves cornered a merchant, demanding payment for passage through his alleyway. The merchant backed up against a wall, hands raised, his voice shaking.
Renzo and Luca ducked behind a crate, watching.
"This could go badly," Luca muttered.
"Not if I move carefully," Renzo said. He felt the subtle pulse of their intent. He could not manipulate it yet, but he could sense hesitation. Timing. Rhythm.
The first thief kicked at a barrel, sending a clatter through the alley. The second flinched. Renzo noticed the flicker of doubt and acted. He stepped into a shadowed side path, then threw a small stone against the opposite wall. The echo made the first thief pause. The merchant used the opportunity to step back, clutching a pouch close.
It was nothing spectacular. Just a small ripple in the chaos. But to Renzo, it felt like the first thread of control. A way to shape events without touching them directly.
As evening fell, the city seemed to breathe differently. Lanterns reflected in puddles. Fog curled around corners. Renzo crouched atop a crate, blanket tight around his shoulders, watching a group of street kids argue over scraps of food.
I can sense it. I can see it. And soon, I will test it.
He focused on Ten, feeling his aura like a thin veil around him. Zetsu followed, pulling awareness inward to hide presence. Renzo did not move yet. He only observed, learning the rhythm of fear, hunger, and aggression in the children below. He could sense hesitation. Subtle choices waiting to be made.
One child lunged too quickly, another hesitated. Renzo's eyes flicked between them. A stone rolled off the crate he sat on, clattering against a wall. The children froze. That small pause was all he needed. He stepped forward, scooping up a small loaf of bread and tossing it to the child who had hesitated the most. The boy's eyes widened, and he bolted down the alley, clutching the bread.
The others muttered but did not follow. Renzo exhaled slowly. It was minor. Almost meaningless. But it was control without force, influence without breaking the rules.
Night deepened, and the docks emptied. Small fires burned in alley corners, casting shifting shadows. Renzo crouched near a barrel, listening to footsteps and whispers. He cataloged every movement, every sound. The city's rhythm became a map in his mind.
I can feel it. Not yet Hatsu, not yet power. But something is beginning. A spark.
Renzo closed his eyes, letting the pulse of the city enter him. He felt the tension in the docks, the minor disputes, the unspoken hierarchy of street life. Somewhere in the alleys, deals were being made. Somewhere, someone watched. Somewhere, power waited.
Tomorrow, he would step closer to it. Slowly, carefully. One spark at a time.