Dawn Training – Kenjutsu:
The night sky still clung to the horizon when Kaito's eyes snapped open. The moon was sinking, casting a pale glow over Uzushiogakure. Most of the village still slumbered, but Kaito was already on his feet.
His fingers brushed against the tanto lying by his futon. The steel felt cold yet comforting in his grip. It begins today, he thought, stepping outside into the chill of dawn.
The training grounds were empty, dew glistening on the grass, the air crisp with silence. He drew his tanto, the faint scrape of steel echoing in the stillness.
At first, he focused only on his stance. Feet apart, knees bent, weight balanced—foundation mattered. Then came the cuts.
Slash. Recover. Slash. Recover. Over and over, the rhythm built. His arms burned, but he pressed on.
Too sloppy. Again.
He adjusted, imagining different scenarios. An enemy lunging forward—thrust straight to the chest. An opponent at his side—horizontal slash. A foe pressing from above—angled cut upward.
He practiced blocking motions too, parrying with the flat of the blade, redirecting imaginary blows.
Sweat dripped down his temple as the hours passed. His breath grew ragged, but his focus never wavered.
By the end of three hours, his movements had grown sharper, faster, more fluid. He collapsed onto the grass, chest heaving, but a smile curved his lips.
"This… is only the beginning."
He sheathed the tanto, wiped his brow, and headed toward Soka's home, the sun now peeking over the horizon.
Chakra Control with Soka:
Soka greeted him at the door, her scarred face lighting up with joy. "Morning! You're early."
Kaito chuckled. "Couldn't sleep. Ready for training?"
"Always."
Together, they returned to their familiar clearing. Today's focus was the same: tree climbing with chakra.
"Remember," Kaito reminded, "steady flow to your feet. Not too much, not too little."
Soka nodded and sprinted toward a small tree. Her first attempt failed, her feet sliding off after a few steps. She landed hard but stood back up, determination blazing.
Again and again, she tried, adjusting little by little. Kaito guided her, correcting her posture, reminding her to breathe.
Hours slipped away under the warm sun. Sweat plastered their hair to their faces, their bodies aching from falls. But then—
"Wait—look!" Soka cried, her voice trembling with excitement.
Kaito's eyes widened. She was climbing. Slowly, steadily, her feet stuck to the bark as she scaled the small tree. At the top, she turned, laughing breathlessly, pride radiating from her.
"I did it, Kaito! I really did it!"
He smiled warmly. "Well done, Soka. You've earned it."
But inside, frustration burned. When he tried the same, his feet tore through the bark, his chakra overwhelming the delicate balance required. Every attempt ended in failure, the tree scarred by his missteps.
Too much chakra… my reserves are too vast. Control is slipping through my fingers.
Soka noticed his frown. "Kaito… don't be too hard on yourself. You'll get it."
But he shook his head. "Not like this. I need… something else."
Ryūtai-fū – The Birth of a Jutsu:
Kaito sat cross-legged under the shade of a tree, the tanto resting at his side. He closed his eyes, mind racing.
My chakra is too vast. Controlling it like everyone else won't work. I need a method tailored to me.
He thought of the stories of shinobi shaping chakra into fire, water, lightning. What if he created something simpler, a jutsu not for attack but for control?
Wind… it's everywhere, constant yet fluid. If I can shape it, maybe I can shape my chakra too.
He pressed his palms together, focusing his chakra outward. At first, nothing happened. Then, faint currents stirred, brushing against his skin.
"Too rough," he muttered. He adjusted, forcing himself to reduce the flow, to refine it. Slowly, the breeze grew steady, consistent.
Yes… like guiding a river into smaller streams.
Hours passed as he experimented. He wove chakra into the air, thinning oxygen slightly in one spot, then dispersing it. He pushed moisture apart, feeling faint changes in the air around him.
It wasn't flashy, but it was real. A technique born from necessity.
"Ryūtai-fū," he whispered. "Fluid Winds."
The jutsu wasn't powerful—not yet—but it was control incarnate. Every adjustment required precision. Every failure taught him balance.
Again and again, he invoked the technique, refining the breeze, guiding it like a sculptor with clay. His chakra, once wild, began to obey, its vastness compressed into finer streams.
Soka watched in awe. "Kaito… you made a jutsu?"
He nodded, sweat dripping down his brow. "Not just a jutsu. A tool for control."
Her eyes sparkled with admiration. "You're incredible."
But Kaito only shook his head. "No. This is just the first step."
Yet inside, pride stirred. He had carved his own path, one unique to his monstrous chakra.
A Small Victory:
The sky dimmed as twilight descended. The clearing glowed with golden light as Kaito stood before the same tree Soka had climbed.
"Alright," he whispered. "Let's see if this works."
He activated Ryūtai-fū, letting the steady flow of chakra guide him. Not too much, not too little—just enough.
He stepped onto the bark.
One step. Two steps. Three. His heart pounded. The bark didn't shatter. His feet held firm.
Up, higher, until he stood near the top. He looked down, breath caught in his throat. Then, with a final push, he leaped back down, landing heavily on the ground.
For a moment, silence. Then Kaito burst into laughter, sprawling on the dirt, exhausted but triumphant.
"I did it!" he shouted, voice echoing through the trees. "I finally did it!"
Soka clapped and cheered, her joy as radiant as his own.
Flat on his back, Kaito smiled up at the sky, the last traces of sunlight fading into night. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt it deep in his soul—
A small victory.