The moonlight shimmered silver against the clearing as Keiji stood with his wooden blade in hand. The cool air kissed his sweat-dampened skin, and yet the warmth inside him grew restless. His chest rose and fell sharply, his chakra swirling like a storm barely contained.
Nearly a year had passed since his training began. Retsu had molded him with patience, balancing the healer's touch with the warrior's edge. His strikes were sharper, his footing steadier, his chakra more refined. But tonight, something was different.
His breath fogged in the night air, his small hands tightening around the wooden hilt. His heart pounded—not from fatigue, but from pressure. A strange, building force deep inside his body.
"Again," Retsu commanded.
Her tone was calm, but Keiji heard the steel beneath her words.
He swung the blade in a clean arc, his body remembering the lessons drilled into him. But as his foot struck the earth, chakra burst outward—wild, untamed. A wave rippled from him, rattling the branches above. The ground quivered beneath his sandals.
Keiji froze, eyes wide. His fingers trembled. "Mama… I didn't mean—"
"Again," Retsu said, her eyes narrowing.
The boy hesitated, then inhaled deeply. This time he guided the chakra down his arms, through the wooden blade. The air hissed, and sparks crackled along the weapon's length. Tiny arcs of lightning snapped against the wood before fading into nothing.
Keiji gasped. "Lightning?"
"Again."
His mother's voice left no room for fear.
He obeyed, channeling chakra once more. This time, heat surged from his chest. At the edge of his strike, a small burst of fire leapt from the blade, scorching the dirt before vanishing in smoke.
The boy staggered back, chest heaving, as heat and static clashed inside him. His chakra swirled violently—torrents of fire and lightning raging like two rivers colliding. And then, beneath it all, something deeper stirred.
Yin chakra. Cold, dark, yet alive. It unfurled like a shadow inside his soul.
The clearing fell silent, the night itself holding its breath.
---
A Mother's Fear
Retsu stepped closer, her face calm though unease gnawed at her heart. Fire and lightning both—his father's blood runs deep. And Yin… that presence cannot be ignored.
Her son's body trembled, his eyes glimmering faintly in the dark. Power far too vast for one so young coursed through him.
"Keiji," she said softly, kneeling so her eyes met his, "do you feel it? How the energy collides inside you?"
He nodded, fear tightening his features. "It's too much, Mama. I can't hold it."
She placed her palm against his chest, her own chakra flowing outward to meet his storm. Slowly, carefully, she pressed it down, shaping the flow like a potter's hands on clay.
"Breathe," she whispered. "Do not fight it—guide it. Your body is not a vessel to break. It is the river that carries the current."
Keiji squeezed his eyes shut. Inhale. Exhale. The torrents raged, then steadied. Fire dimmed to warmth, lightning thinned to static, and Yin receded into stillness.
When he opened his eyes, his mother's calm gaze anchored him. But she knew the truth—this was no fleeting flare. His inheritance was beginning to awaken. And once awakened, it could never be silenced.
---
Between Wonder and Terror
Later, Keiji sat by a small stream, his reflection wavering in the ripples. His small hands broke the surface, the cool water soothing the residual heat and tingling in his veins.
He thought of the fire bursting forth, of lightning dancing across his weapon, of that silent, lurking Yin within him.
His whisper carried only to the water: "I'm… dangerous, aren't I?"
Retsu, seated nearby, closed her eyes. "No. You are not dangerous. Power is not danger in itself. But power without control…" She let the words hang. "That is a storm that devours even its wielder."
Keiji clenched his fists. "I don't want to hurt anyone again. Not like before."
Her expression softened. "Then learn. Train until it obeys you. Make it yours—not your master."
---
Unnatural Wings
The following evening, training resumed with greater care. Retsu shifted their focus to meditation and control, guiding his breathing and chakra molding. She taught him to draw fire into embers instead of flames, to let lightning dance as sparks instead of storms.
But as the boy concentrated, the strange Yin presence swelled. His chakra flared dark and heavy. The clearing grew unnaturally hushed.
From the treeline, crows stirred.
Wings flapped in unison as black shapes filled the air. One, then ten, then hundreds descended, their glowing eyes trained on the boy. They perched upon branches, stones, even the earth itself, forming a black circle around the clearing.
Keiji's grip on his blade faltered. "Mama… why are they—"
The crows cawed in eerie unison, their cries almost rhythmic. It was no ordinary noise—it was a chant, an echo that resonated with the Yin stirring in his chest.
The birds began to wheel through the air, circling him in a spiraling dance. Their wings beat in rhythm, feathers brushing the night sky. Keiji's heart raced, yet he felt no malice. Instead, there was a strange recognition, as if the crows knew him.
Retsu's hand slid onto the hilt of her hidden blade. Every instinct screamed to strike, to protect. But she held her ground, watching. These birds were not here to harm. They were answering a call.
Keiji stood at the center, small and trembling, as the crows orbited him in a cyclone of black feathers. Their eyes glowed faintly crimson in the moonlight—mirroring the bloodline in his veins.
Then, as abruptly as they had gathered, the flock scattered. A roar of wings split the night as the birds vanished into the sky, leaving only silence behind.
Keiji stood frozen, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Mama… what just happened?"
Retsu exhaled slowly, her mask of serenity hiding her unease. "The world has noticed you, Keiji. Even nature itself answers your presence now."
---
Aftermath
That night, long after Keiji had fallen asleep, Retsu sat in silence by the dim glow of a lamp. Shadows stretched across the walls, her thoughts heavy.
Fire. Lightning. Yin. And the crows. Her son's power was awakening faster than she had prepared for. His father's bloodline would not stay silent, no matter how deeply buried.
How long until others feel it? How long until Madara himself senses it?
Her gaze drifted to the boy asleep under thin blankets, his features peaceful and soft. To her, he was still a child. But to the world, soon, he would be something else entirely.
The following morning, rumors spread through the capital. Fishermen spoke of a great black flock blotting out the moon. Merchants muttered of ill omens. Few gave it more than superstition, but in the shadows of the city, whispers spread.
A boy whose chakra stirred storms and summoned crows.
A storm was gathering—and it had already found its vessel.
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End of the Chapter
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