The streets of Yorknew felt alive in a way that pricked at every nerve. Rain had washed the dust away, leaving puddles that mirrored the neon signs overhead. Every reflection, every movement, every sound pulsed with intent. Renzo moved along the edges of the marketplace, keeping to shadows and quiet corners. Even in this chaotic city, patterns emerged.
I have to move carefully, I thought. One wrong step, and I could be more than just a street urchin in trouble.
Luca stayed a few paces behind, eyes scanning the rooftops. "Keep your head down today," he whispered. "We are going to test more than observation. You are going to touch the edges of the city's pulse. Do not overstep."
Renzo nodded. His heart beat steady, yet a faint excitement rippled through his chest. He was ready. Not for a fight, not yet, but for the moment where his senses and instincts would finally meet challenge.
The first shadows of trouble appeared as a group of Black Talons gang members rounded a corner. Their movements were loose, casual, but their eyes carried weight. Renzo crouched low, letting his aura settle like a quiet drum under his skin. Ten first, then Zetsu, then Ren.
He could not use Hatsu yet. He had only the flow, the perception, the subtle push and pull of presence.
One of the gang, taller than the others, stopped mid-step. He glanced toward the alley, sniffing the air as though he could smell more than just rain. The others laughed, unaware that two figures crouched just out of sight.
Renzo froze, analyzing their posture, the tension in their muscles. He could see the flow of their intent, the faint hesitation of one who was new, the confidence of the leader, the cautious glances exchanged among them.
I can feel it. Not power yet. Just awareness. Just edges.
A cart wobbled nearby, knocking over a stack of crates. The noise drew one gang member's gaze, just a fraction too long. Renzo noticed it, timed it, and stepped slightly into view. Not to attack, not yet. Just enough to cause a split-second distraction.
The new member stumbled. The leader barked orders, and Renzo slipped back into shadow before they could notice. His heart raced. He was still hidden, still unseen, yet he had influenced the moment without touching them directly.
The alley shifted, narrow and twisting. Rain slicked stones glistened under the street lamps. Renzo and Luca moved silently, each footstep measured. They were invisible not because they hid, but because they flowed with the rhythm of the city.
"I want you to feel it," Luca said softly. "The pulse of danger. Your aura can warn you before the world moves."
Renzo let his breathing deepen, focusing on the faint vibrations around him. Ten stabilized his aura, Zetsu retracted it, and Ren expanded his awareness. Each gang member was a thread in a complex web. He could not control it. He could only sense it, react to it.
Suddenly, a shout echoed down the alley. A merchant stumbled, bumping into a gang member. Coins clattered. The taller one growled, gripping a metal pipe. Renzo froze. This was more than observation. This was a test of timing, patience, and control.
I cannot fight. Not yet. But I can choose the moment.
He stepped lightly, letting the tension in his body align with the alley. His presence shifted, subtle and almost imperceptible. The gang member flinched slightly at a shadow falling differently across the wall. A second hesitation. Enough.
Renzo darted, grabbing a discarded scrap of rope, tossing it to trip the new member. The boy fell, yelping, and Renzo melted back into shadow. No one saw him move. The leader cursed and kicked the pile of crates, frustrated.
Hours passed like a storm of small, precise actions. Renzo tested the edges of his aura, feeling the flow of others' intent and adjusting his position accordingly. Every minor success taught him something new—timing, perception, balance. His Nen was not Hatsu yet, but the spark of awareness grew brighter with each heartbeat.
By evening, the city had quieted slightly, but Yorknew never truly slept. Lanterns reflected in puddles, casting an eerie light on wet stone. Renzo crouched near the docks, blanket around his shoulders, coins in his pocket, and scraps of paper with notes scattered beside him. Each note was a small lesson, a memory of timing, flow, and perception.
"Tomorrow," Luca said quietly, "we push further. You will touch the edge, but you must not fall off."
Renzo nodded. He closed his eyes, listening to the city. The pulse of Yorknew vibrated in his chest. It was not power, not yet, but it was enough to know he could survive. It was enough to know he could begin.
The distant sounds of a street vendor, the faint shuffling of a hidden child, the soft hiss of rain hitting metal roofs—each carried weight, each offered information. Renzo felt a thrill. This city, its alleys, its shadows—they were his classroom. His first battles had been fought without touching a person, without Hatsu, yet they had changed him.
The spark was there. Ten, Zetsu, Ren. Observation, control, balance. The first shadows of power were his to explore.