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Jiro Tensai had barely escaped the gang member in the alley, the pulse of Essentia still thrumming in his veins. The streets smelled of rust and ozone, every shadow a potential predator. He needed safety — somewhere he could think, train, and breathe without watching his back.
Old Gin's factory was his sanctuary, a hidden place beneath a collapsed power plant at the district's edge. Jiro ducked through narrow service tunnels, leaping over broken pipes and dangling wires, guided by memory and instinct. He moved silently, each step careful, aware that the Authority or another gang could appear at any moment.
Finally, he reached a concealed hatch hidden behind a stack of scrap machinery. He pressed a hand against the cold metal — a pulse of blue light beneath his skin resonated with the latch — and it slid open. Inside, the factory smelled of rust, burnt circuits, and old oil. This was Old Gin's domain: a place of discipline, survival, and hidden power.
Gin was already waiting, leaning against a workbench. "Late again," the old soldier muttered, though his eyes betrayed concern. "You got lucky down there. Too lucky."
He had been training here for weeks, guided by Old Gin, the grizzled former soldier who had taken him in after his parents died.
Gin's presence was imposing — a broad-shouldered man with a scarred face, hands like steel grips, and eyes that had seen every kind of death the Rust District could offer. Yet, beneath the stern exterior was a quiet care that Jiro felt but rarely acknowledged.
"Focus," Gin's voice rumbled, echoing through the cavernous space. "You're wasting your strength if your mind is scattered. The body and the threads must move as one."
Jiro wiped sweat from his brow. His arms trembled, but he didn't dare speak. He trusted Gin — the man had saved him more times than he could count, not just from the gangs or the drones, but from the hopelessness of surviving alone.
Gin crouched opposite him. "You need to understand why you feel the blue flame, Tensai. What flows inside you isn't magic. It's Essentia — the life-energy that threads through everything."
Jiro blinked. "Life… energy?"
"Essentia," Gin corrected. "It connects all living things. Plants, animals, machines — even humans carry it. But most cannot see it, cannot feel it. You can."
He tapped Jiro's chest. "Then there's Etherion. Ambient cosmic energy that hangs in the air. Storms, celestial bodies, even the cracks in the sky — it's all Etherion.And finally, Vita Nova — the spark of your soul, your inner vitality. Together, body, soul, and energy form the foundation of power. Martial arts trains the body, meditation strengthens the soul, Essentia channels energy. That is cultivation."
Jiro's eyes narrowed. "So… Ryūshin-ken isn't just fighting. It's… controlling threads?"
Gin nodded. "Exactly. And if you want to survive here — and beyond — you must master all three."
He gestured to the open floor. "Start with stance. Feel your heartbeat. Match it with the blue threads."
Jiro inhaled. One… two… three… The rhythm pulsed in his chest, spreading along his arms and legs. He moved his feet, imitating the ancient forms recorded in the Ryūshin-ken chip. At first, it was awkward. His body resisted, stiff and clumsy.
"Relax," Gin barked. "Force is weakness. Flow is strength."
Minutes passed. Slowly, the faint blue lines under Jiro's veins brightened. A loose pipe quivered where he had accidentally brushed it. His hands tingled. He realized with a jolt, that the blue flame — Essentia — was responding to his motions.
Gin's eyes softened. "That's it. Your first stage: Thread Awakening. You can sense life, feel the flow of energy, and slightly enhance your body. It's weak now, but enough to survive… if you're careful."
Jiro's chest heaved. Sweat ran down his face, but for the first time, he smiled faintly. "I… I can feel it. Everything… moving."
Gin grunted. "Good. Remember this, Tensai — the world after Earth is dangerous. Not just because of people, but because of what came from the skies. You have the spark. Train your body, train your mind, and the threads will follow."
The boy nodded, determination coiling in his chest like a living wire. He continued the movements long into the night, matching Ryūshin-ken stances with Essentia flow, each strike and step a pulse through his veins.
Above, through the fractured smog, the faint crack in the sky shimmered again. This time, Jiro didn't flinch. He had a purpose. He had a path.
And under the watchful eyes of Old Gin, he began to awaken.
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