5: Shadows of the Past (Extended)
The morning sun painted Konoha in a gentle gold, but Kanro Sasho could not feel its warmth. For days, uneasy visions had haunted him. Shadows that stretched too long, whispers in a language older than memory, and the mark on his chest pulsing faintly—almost as if it was calling him.
At the Ninja Academy, the air buzzed with the sound of shuriken spinning and kunai hitting wood targets. Kanro's classmates trained with energetic enthusiasm, but Kanro's attention was elsewhere. His gaze drifted beyond the training field, as if seeing something invisible.
Sensei Iruka noticed his distraction.
"Kanro, focus!" he called firmly, but Kanro barely acknowledged him.
When it was his turn to throw a shuriken, Kanro's movements were unnaturally precise. The blade flew in a perfect arc, striking the target dead center. For a fraction of a second, Kanro saw the throw before it happened—not with sight, but with something deeper.
The whisper came again:
"The Seer awakens."
After the lesson, Kanro found a quiet corner behind the training grounds. He sat cross-legged and closed his eyes.
He entered a state he called seeing beyond. His breath slowed. The air around him thickened, and his senses sharpened. He could hear faint heartbeats from far away, sense the flow of chakra nearby, and detect even the slightest change in the wind.
A vision formed before his mind's eye: an endless corridor of shifting shadows, and at its center, the same mark on his chest glowing bright gold.
"The past is waking," the voice whispered.
Shaking off the vision, Kanro stood. He decided to head home, but as he walked through the quiet streets, unease crawled up his spine. The village seemed too still. Too silent.
From a darkened alley, movement caught his eye.
A figure clad in black—masked, silent—emerged. The man moved like smoke, almost blending into the shadows.
Kanro's heart quickened. His Path flared. His pupils glowed faint gold as he saw the man's next move—not as a guess, but as a vision.
The masked figure lunged with a kunai. Kanro's body reacted instinctively—dodging before the attack even began. The blade sliced through the air where Kanro had stood moments before.
"Konoha… has a gift," the man hissed. "But it will not be yours for long."
Kanro's fists clenched. His breathing was steady now, but his mind raced. This was not a random attack—it was targeted.
The masked figure struck again, faster this time. Kanro's Seer Path flared wider. His vision expanded—not only seeing the present but catching glimpses of the next seconds. He moved like a shadow himself, dodging each strike with uncanny precision.
He countered with a powerful palm strike, sending the attacker stumbling back. But the figure recovered instantly and vanished into smoke before Kanro could press the attack.
Kanro stood in the empty alley, chest heaving. Iruka-sensei landed beside him silently, kunai in hand, eyes sharp with concern.
"What happened?" Iruka asked.
Kanro could only shake his head.
The truth was buried deep—he didn't yet understand what was happening to him.
That evening, Kanro found himself back in the training grounds, alone under the moonlight. The air was thick with quiet energy. He began a new training ritual, combining taijutsu with his Seer ability:
Step 1: Meditation to sharpen perception.
Step 2: Chakra control to refine strikes.
Step 3: Combat drills while anticipating moves through visions.
He practiced for hours, his body moving fluidly between strikes and dodges, each motion precise and calculated. His Seer Path revealed flashes of enemies, shadows, and dangers he had never encountered.
By the end of the night, Kanro collapsed under the trees, exhausted but certain of one thing: the shadows of the past were closing in on him.
And somewhere far away, in the stillness of the night, watchers whispered:
"The boy walks his path. Soon… the trial will come."