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Chapter 9 – First Attempts
The forest was quiet except for the distant rustle of leaves. Kirito sat cross-legged on a flat rock, his stolen scrolls spread before him in neat rows. The diagrams of the human chakra network stared back at him—pathways, tenketsu points, notes scribbled in careful medical script.
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. His chakra stirred, rising like a tide, flowing through his body. Normally it ran freely through his network, an endless river. But today, he tried something different. He tried to stop the river. To dam it. To gather it all in one place.
At first, it resisted. Chakra slipped through his control like water through fingers. He pushed harder, gritting his teeth.
The air around him vibrated faintly. His stomach felt tight, a pressure building just below his navel.
"Yes… hold…" His voice was strained.
The pressure mounted until it was unbearable. With a sharp crack inside his mind, the chakra burst outward, scattering through his pathways like shattered glass.
Kirito gasped, clutching his stomach. Sweat dripped down his face. His body trembled as though he had just run for hours.
"Damn it." His whisper was harsh. "I can't… hold it."
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From the treeline, one of his clones approached cautiously. "You're insane, y'know that?"
Kirito shot it a glare. "You're me. That makes us insane."
The clone crossed its arms. "Fair point. But trying to stuff all your chakra into one point? That's not training—it's suicide."
Another clone dropped from a tree branch, landing lightly. "He's not wrong. Your tenketsu could rupture. Worst case, you cripple yourself."
Kirito steadied his breathing. His body ached, but his resolve didn't falter. "Every breakthrough looks like suicide until it works."
The first clone muttered, "Or until it kills you."
He ignored them both, focusing on the diagrams. His pen scratched across his notebook. Problem: chakra resists unnatural containment. Possible solution: gradual compression, not forceful.
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By dusk, his body was too drained to continue. His hands shook as he tried again and failed, the chakra slipping from his grasp every time.
A rustle drew his attention. Another clone emerged, holding a rabbit by the ears.
"Dinner," it said simply, tossing the catch onto the ground.
Kirito sighed in relief. "Good. I need the energy."
The firelight soon crackled in the small clearing, smoke curling into the night sky. The smell of roasting meat filled the air. Kirito sat in silence, chewing slowly, his thoughts still locked on the failure.
When the last bone was discarded, he leaned back against a log, staring at the flames. The clones around him dissolved one by one, their memories flooding into his mind—hours of wasted effort, attempts that had all ended the same way.
His eyelids drooped, exhaustion finally overtaking him. But just before sleep claimed him, he muttered to the dark:
"This path… it's too big to give up on. Tomorrow, I'll try again."