The sea air still lingered on Renzo's skin when he returned from the docks. It was late afternoon, and the sky above Whale Island had already begun to turn orange, the sunlight glittering across the waves like broken glass. He wiped sweat from his forehead, his shirt damp after hours of helping Takehi haul in nets.
"Keep your back straight," Takehi grumbled as he tied the last rope to a wooden peg. His voice was low, roughened by years of salt air and shouting above storms. He stood taller than most men Renzo had ever met, with wide shoulders and a thick torso that looked carved out of work itself. His tanned skin bore deep creases at the edges of his eyes, lines earned from sun and laughter alike. A black beard flecked with silver framed his face, though he shaved it down whenever it grew wild.
Takehi glanced at Renzo, his sharp eyes narrowing. "You will ruin your spine if you keep bending like that. Straight. Always straight."
Renzo pulled at the rope again, mimicking the older man's posture. "Like this?"
"Better." Takehi's lips twitched, almost a smile, but it quickly melted back into his usual firm expression.
Despite his sternness, Renzo had grown used to the fisherman's presence. Takehi was not quick with praise, but his steady hand and dependable routine had become the anchor to Renzo's new life.
By the time they finished, the sun had sunk halfway into the horizon. The gulls circled overhead, crying as if urging the men to leave their domain.
Takehi slung a sack of fish over his shoulder, then nodded toward the forest trail that cut inland. "You have that meeting again?"
Renzo hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yes. Jack is waiting."
Takehi grunted. "Do not stay too late. The forest has its own rules at night."
Renzo bowed slightly, more habit than necessity. "I understand."
He jogged down the dirt trail, his sneakers crunching on dried leaves. The path soon grew narrow, overgrown with roots that coiled like sleeping snakes. The canopy dimmed the sky into streaks of crimson and violet.
At the clearing, a figure stood with his arms crossed behind his back, waiting as if he had been there for hours.
Jack was tall, but not bulky. His frame was lean, built like a whip rather than a hammer. Long black hair streaked with white was tied into a rough tail, a few strands falling across his sharp cheekbones. His eyes, deep brown and tired yet piercing, seemed to catch every movement Renzo made. Loose, dark clothing hung comfortably from his body, like a robe meant for training rather than ceremony.
"You are late." Jack's voice was calm but carried weight.
Renzo bowed low, sweat dripping down his neck. "Forgive me. Takehi needed more help today."
Jack studied him for a moment, then gave a single nod. "Excuses are wind. Effort is stone. But you came. That is what matters."
Renzo straightened, his chest tight but filled with anticipation. "What will we do today?"
Jack's mouth curved into the faintest smile. "Patience. A lesson first." He walked to the center of the clearing, his bare feet silent against the earth. "Do you know the meaning of Shingen-ryu?"
Renzo hesitated. "Strength… style?"
Jack shook his head slowly. "Gratitude. The body is a vessel. The spirit is a flame. Shingen-ryu was born to keep that flame steady. Power without gratitude burns wild and destroys. Gratitude gives direction."
He raised one hand and closed his eyes. For a moment, Renzo felt as though the air itself shifted. The leaves rustled with no wind, the silence growing heavier. Then it passed as quickly as it came.
Renzo's eyes widened. "That was—"
Jack opened his eyes sharply. "Nen."
The word cut through the clearing like steel.
Renzo's fists clenched unconsciously. "So you will teach me."
Jack's expression hardened. "I will teach you only what you are ready to hold. Nothing more. Nothing less." He stepped closer, his shadow stretching across Renzo's smaller frame. "But you must understand one thing. Nen is not a toy. It is not to be shown to outsiders. Even to those you call friend. Do you hear me?"
Renzo swallowed hard. "I hear you."
Jack studied him, then asked quietly, "Do you understand why?"
Renzo thought of his past life, of what Nen could do. "Because it can hurt them. Because if they are not ready, it could destroy them."
Jack nodded once, satisfied. "Good. Then we begin."
He motioned for Renzo to sit on the ground. The boy crossed his legs, his hands resting on his knees, trying to steady the pounding in his chest.
"First, Ten," Jack said. "The flame's protection. It keeps what is yours from leaking away. Without it, you are a candle in the wind."
Renzo closed his eyes, trying to follow. His skin prickled as if something inside him wanted to seep out. He tightened his focus, gripping that sensation like water trying to escape through his fingers.
Jack's voice hovered over him like a steady drum. "Do not force it. Do not crush it. Hold it gently. Gratitude, Renzo. Gratitude that you breathe. Gratitude that you live."
Minutes stretched. Sweat rolled down Renzo's temples, but he breathed steadily, recalling the words. Gratitude. Life. Flame.
When he finally opened his eyes, Jack's sharp gaze was fixed on him.
"You lasted longer than yesterday." Jack's tone carried no praise, but his eyes softened with approval. "Good. Again."
Renzo nodded, his muscles trembling. He lowered his eyelids and returned to the silence.
Hours passed before Jack finally spoke again. "Enough. You will rest."
Renzo nearly collapsed backward, his chest heaving. He caught himself and forced his breathing calm.
Jack turned his head toward the dim forest. "Your body grows faster than your mind. If you run too quickly, both will break. Balance, Renzo. Always balance."
Renzo wiped his brow. "Yes, Master."
Jack's lips twitched. "Do not call me that. I am only Jack. A man too old to fish and too stubborn to die."
Despite the ache in his limbs, Renzo chuckled softly. "Then thank you, Jack."
Jack gave no reply, but the faintest smile tugged at his mouth before he walked deeper into the trees, disappearing like smoke.
Renzo lingered in the clearing, watching fireflies rise from the grass. His chest ached with exhaustion, but inside, a warmth flickered steady. Not wild. Not chaotic. A flame given shape.
He whispered to himself, "Gratitude."
The word felt heavier now, like a vow he could not break.
When Renzo finally returned to Takehi's home, the fisherman sat by the doorway, pipe smoke curling around him.
"You look like you wrestled with a bear," Takehi said, eyeing the dirt and sweat on Renzo's clothes.
Renzo scratched the back of his neck. "Training."
Takehi raised a thick brow. "That old man is working you harder every day."
Renzo smiled faintly. "I can handle it."
Takehi puffed his pipe, then exhaled slowly. "Just remember. Strength means nothing if you forget who you stand beside. Remember the people who pull you back from the water when you are drowning."
Renzo paused, staring at the man who had pulled him from the sea years ago. His throat tightened, but he nodded firmly.
"I will remember."
Takehi gave a grunt, stood, and pushed open the door. "Good. Then eat before you fall over."
Renzo followed, the scent of grilled fish already warming the small home.
That night, as the waves lapped softly against the shore and the stars glittered above Whale Island, Renzo lay awake. His body ached, his hands stung, and his mind spun with Jack's words.
A flame. Gratitude. Balance.
He knew this path would not be easy. But under the roof of Takehi and the guidance of Jack, Renzo felt the weight of two masters shaping him. One from the sea, one from the forest. Both anchoring him to the boy he had become.
For the first time since awakening in this strange world, Renzo whispered into the night with quiet certainty.
"I will not waste this life."