Chapter 4: Learning the Ways of Ninja
The morning mist clung to the mountains as I entered the training hall of the Steel Bloodline Clan. Today was no ordinary practice. Today, the elders would teach me the full spectrum of ninja arts—taijutsu, genjutsu, and the subtle control of chakra that turned a simple strike into a weapon of precision.
I tightened the straps on my gauntlets, feeling the cold metal against my skin. The Steel Bloodline was famed for its mastery of chakra-infused metal techniques, and my body already bore the early marks of training: calloused hands, strengthened limbs, and a mind racing with calculations.
"Raizen," Elder Kurogane called, his voice deep and deliberate, "today you learn not only to fight, but to think as a ninja. Every movement, every strike, every breath—observe and control it all."
I nodded, stepping forward. I had studied ninjutsu from books I'd found in the modern world, but feeling chakra flow through my body was entirely different. It was energy, yes—but tangible, alive. I flexed my fingers, sending a gentle pulse through the metal blade I held. It vibrated with my will, responding to every subtle command.
First came taijutsu. Elder Kurogane moved like liquid steel, striking and parrying in ways that seemed impossible. I mirrored his movements, letting my modern understanding of anatomy guide my training. I anticipated openings, balanced my stance, and moved in fluid, calculated patterns. Others would take years to achieve this level; I was already close.
Next, genjutsu. The illusions were subtle at first—a flicker of shadow, a whisper of sound. Most students faltered, panic overtaking them. I focused, grounding myself in the reality of chakra flow, tracing the invisible currents in the mind. Slowly, I could feel the threads, and for the first time, I wove my own illusions. Shadows danced unnaturally around me, a trick of perception that left the elders silent.
Finally, chakra control for weaponry. The Steel Bloodline's specialty was infusing metal with chakra, turning simple blades into conduits of energy. I experimented carefully, sending pulses through a short blade. Sparks danced along its edge. It was elegant, beautiful—and deadly if misused. I hid the full extent of my knowledge, only showing enough to impress but not to reveal the secrets of the future.
During a short break, I watched the other children. Some were naturally talented, others struggled, and a few, like me, had potential far beyond their years. I realized something crucial: skill alone was not enough. Survival in this era demanded strategy, foresight, and alliances. One misstep could be fatal.
It was then that I met him—Kaito, a boy from a nearby clan who had been sent for joint training. His movements were unrefined but strong, his spirit unbreakable. Unlike the others, he didn't seem intimidated by my skill. Instead, he smiled, offered a nod of respect, and sparred with me.
Our match was intense, a dance of metal, chakra, and wit. I tested my strategies, feigned openings, and watched him adapt. By the end, we both stood panting, laughing quietly at the thrill of challenge. This would be the first of many bonds, and I sensed he would play a part in the events to come.
As the sun dipped behind the peaks, I walked back to the compound's walls, exhausted but exhilarated. The Steel Bloodline had given me a foundation, but the world outside was far more dangerous. The Uchiha and Senju clans' shadows were growing longer, and I could already see the sparks of conflict flickering in the distance.
I am learning the ways of the ninja, I thought. But I will not just survive. I will master this world, quietly, efficiently, like steel forged in fire.
And in the silence of the evening, I made a promise: one day, the world would know the name Raizen Kurogane, not as a child of minor legend, but as a force that even history itself could not ignore.