Rain dripped steadily from the eaves of broken buildings. The alleys of Yorknew City smelled of wet stone, rotting wood, and distant smoke. Renzo pulled his thin blanket tighter around his shoulders, feeling the chill in his bones. Seven years old, alone, and hungry, he had already begun learning to read the city in ways most adults could not.
I can sense them. Every step, every breath. Even the shadows have weight. I just need to pay attention.
Luca crouched beside him, eyes scanning the street. "You're going to get sick if you keep sitting out here," he whispered. His voice carried the tiredness of someone who had spent years surviving the streets. "Why do you always insist on being out first?"
Renzo turned his gaze toward him, a faint smirk on his lips. "Because someone has to know what's happening. You can hide and wait, but the streets don't wait for you."
Luca exhaled slowly and shook his head. "One day, someone will notice that you're always in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"I'll make sure they notice me at the right time," Renzo muttered, his fingers tracing a crack in the stone. The rhythm of dripping water, distant footsteps, and occasional carts rolling over cobblestones formed a pattern in his mind. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat beneath the city.
A scuffle broke out a few alleys down. Renzo froze, listening. Two street kids wrestled over a dropped coin bag, their shouts echoing through the narrow lane. He felt the subtle tension in the air, the hesitation in their movements, the way one child's eyes darted too quickly toward an exit.
This is it, I thought. Not yet Hatsu, just Ten and Zetsu. Blend, observe, react.
He crouched low, letting Zetsu retract his presence as much as he could. The puddles on the ground reflected faint lantern light. He shifted slightly, testing how small movements could influence attention. The coin bag tipped over further. The kids froze, startled by the sudden clatter. Renzo moved closer, careful, counting steps between them, predicting gestures.
He reached the bag first, scooping it up. "Here," he said softly, tossing it to the smaller, timid child. The child grabbed it and ran, glancing back at the larger kid who hesitated, unsure whether to pursue.
Luca exhaled. "You're taking more risks than usual."
"I have to," Renzo replied. "Observation only tells me what might happen. I need to see if I can change it without being noticed."
Hours passed in a blur of cautious exploration. Renzo slipped through alleys, ducked behind crates, and observed street gangs exchanging coins and goods. Each encounter, even the smallest, carried information. The timing of a hand gesture, a slight shift in weight, the pause in a glance—all of it mattered.
He crouched atop a crate near a warehouse, rain soaking through his thin blanket, watching three young men argue over a bundle of coins. They were unremarkable to most, just low-tier criminals, but to Renzo, they were a pattern, a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Focus. Timing. Breathing.
He concentrated, letting Ten fill his body, expanding aura lightly, like a thin shield. Then Zetsu, hiding the warmth of his presence from casual perception. Finally, Ren, the pulse of energy he felt in his chest, steady and deliberate. Not strong enough to manipulate anyone, not even an object, but enough to sense pressure, hesitation, and intent.
He flicked a small pebble with precise timing. It clattered against the wall behind the three men. Heads turned instinctively, a half-second pause that felt like a minute. Renzo took it as a chance. He darted forward, snatched a single coin that had slipped from the bundle, and slipped back into shadow.
"Did you see that?" Luca whispered, eyes wide. "You're moving faster than any normal kid."
"I'm not faster," Renzo said quietly, eyes never leaving the street. "I just see the pause before they act."
Night fell, and Yorknew transformed. Lanterns flickered, casting long shadows across slick streets. Small fires burned in barrels, casting orange light on pale faces. The city breathed differently in darkness. Renzo crouched in a hidden corner near the docks, coins and scraps of paper beside him. He counted every sound, every movement, every pulse in the street.
I feel it. Not control, not yet. Just awareness. The faintest spark.
A merchant stumbled, dropping a bag of coins. Two street children scrambled toward it, hands reaching, shoving each other. Renzo inhaled slowly, letting Ten shield him lightly, Zetsu hide his presence, Ren steady his heartbeat. He did not move yet, only observed.
The child who hesitated the longest froze under his subtle focus. Not Hatsu, not even a skill, only the faint instinct of presence that could influence a moment. Renzo stepped forward, retrieved the bag, and tossed it to the timid child. The others muttered but did not follow.
"You could do more than that," Luca said softly. "If someone really wanted to hurt you, they wouldn't hesitate."
"I know," Renzo replied. "I'm not trying to fight anyone yet. I'm learning the rules, the rhythm. Everything else comes later."
By midnight, the rain had stopped. Fog rolled in from the harbor, curling through alleys and across cobblestones. Renzo crouched on a crate, blanket around his shoulders, watching the faint lights in the distance. Yorknew City was alive, every shadow a potential threat, every whisper a clue.
I have to remember this. Every sound, every movement, every hesitation. This is the city's pulse. And I can feel it.
He closed his eyes briefly, listening to distant voices, the rhythm of carts, the soft splash of water against the docks. Somewhere in the darkness, deals were made, plans whispered, and lives moved like pieces on a board. Renzo understood only a fraction, but the fraction was enough to give him direction.
Tomorrow would bring more. Bigger tests. Subtle manipulations that could shape outcomes. And he would be ready.
Because even without full Hatsu, even without true Nen mastery, he could already feel the spark. And a spark, nurtured, could become fire.