Two weeks had passed since the rain washed over the empty grave.
The morning sun beat down on the ruined courtyard of the Uzumaki shrine, baking the mud into cracked earth. The air was still, heavy with the humidity of late summer, but for Rion, the world was screaming.
He sprinted across the uneven stones, his small chest heaving, sweat stinging the bandages wrapped around his forehead.
"Keep moving," he gasped to himself. "Don't look at the walls. Look at the path."
Rion wasn't wearing a blindfold. He refused to hide. But the cost of seeing was agony.
His brain felt like it was being split in half with a dull axe.
Through his right eye (Alpha), the world was an assault of terrifying detail. As he ran past the old wooden pillars, he didn't just see wood; he saw the intricate, jagged landscapes of the grain, the microscopic tunnels of termites, the dust mites crawling in the cracks. It was too much information, zooming in and out uncontrollably.
Through his left eye (Omega), the physical world faded into a gray blur, overlaid with a chaotic web of neon veins. He saw the residual heat of the sun on the stones as a throbbing orange pulse. He saw the wind as faint, blue ribbons whipping around his ankles.
The two images didn't match. They fought for dominance, turning his vision into a kaleidoscope of nausea.
Rion stumbled, his foot catching on a loose paver. He slammed into the ground, skinning his knees. The pain was sharp, grounding.
"Get up," he hissed through gritted teeth.
He pushed himself up, trembling. He had discovered that physical exhaustion was the only thing that quieted the noise. When his muscles burned, when his lungs screamed for air, his brain was forced to focus on survival. The visual chaos receded, just a little, pushed back by the sheer effort of moving his body.
Daetsu stood on the veranda, watching the boy with a mix of awe and deep concern. The old priest leaned on his crutch, stroking his beard.
"He runs like a man chasing his own ghost," Daetsu murmured to Aya, who stood beside him holding a pitcher of water.
"He's five, Daetsu," Aya whispered, her knuckles white on the handle. "He shouldn't be running until he vomits. He should be playing."
"The boy who played died in that fire," Daetsu said softly. "Whatever is left… is trying to forge itself into a weapon."
Rion completed his fiftieth lap and collapsed onto the grass, panting. He closed his eyes, savoring the darkness. But even in the dark, he could feel it—the hum of the earth beneath him.
He clutched his stomach. The warm, golden river of chakra he used to know was gone. In its place, the Cold Snake lay coiled in his gut—dense, heavy, and silent. It felt vast, like a deep ocean trench, and he was terrified that if he pulled on it, he would drown.
An hour later, Daetsu led Rion to the edge of the forest that bordered the shrine. The towering cedars stood like ancient sentinels.
"You are strong, Rion," Daetsu began, his voice gravelly. "But strength without control is just a landslide. You are tearing your body apart running circles."
Rion looked up, wiping dirt from his cheek. "I need to be stronger. Running isn't enough."
"Then we will train your spirit," Daetsu said. He pointed to the tallest cedar. "Do you remember the Tree Climbing practice? Your father showed you the theory once."
Rion nodded. "Focus chakra to the soles of the feet. Stick to the bark."
"Show me."
Rion stood before the tree. He took a deep breath, trying to block out the visual noise of the bark's texture (Alpha) and the flowing green sap-energy inside it (Omega).
Focus, he thought. Pull the energy.
He reached into the pit of his stomach. He tugged on the Cold Snake.
Usually, chakra responded like water—fluid and easy. But this… this felt like pulling sludge. It was heavy. It resisted him. And then, suddenly, it surged.
It didn't flow; it crashed.
A torrent of dense, freezing energy flooded Rion's legs. It was too much, too fast.
He stepped onto the tree trunk.
CRACK-BOOM!
He didn't stick. The moment his foot made contact, the bark exploded outward. Wood splinters flew like shrapnel. The sheer force of the chakra release acted like a cannon blast, launching Rion backward.
He flew five feet through the air and landed hard on his back, winded.
"Ouch…" Rion groaned, staring up at the canopy.
Daetsu's eyes widened. He hobbled over to the tree. There was a crater in the wood, deep enough to bury a fist, exactly where Rion's small foot had touched.
"Merciful spirits," Daetsu whispered. "That wasn't a connection. That was an impact."
Rion sat up, rubbing his head. "I… I didn't mean to do that. It just… came out all at once."
Daetsu looked at the boy. "Your reserves… they aren't just larger, Rion. They are dense. Your chakra has become heavy. If you try to stick to a leaf, you will likely crush it."
Rion looked at his hands. The power frightened him. It was clumsy and violent. "How do I fix it?"
"We don't fix the ocean," Daetsu said grimly. "We learn to build a stronger ship. Again."
From the edge of the courtyard, Reiko watched.
She had been sweeping the stairs—a chore she used to complain about, but now did with mechanical precision. She saw Rion fly backward. She saw the crater in the tree. She saw the blood on his knees and the frustration on his face.
She looked down at her own hands. They were blistered from the broom and the kitchen knife. They were shaking.
Since the funeral, she had felt like a ghost in her own home. She cooked bad food. She cleaned rooms that were already clean. She watched her little brother destroy himself trying to become a soldier.
I promised to take care of him, she thought, biting her lip. But how can I take care of him if he's miles ahead of me?
That evening, as the sun dipped below the mountains, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold, Reiko approached the training ground.
Rion was lying on the grass, exhausted. Daetsu was wiping his brow.
"Daetsu-sama," Reiko said. Her voice was quiet, but it didn't waver.
The old priest turned. "Reiko? Is dinner ready?"
"No," she said. She stepped forward, dropping her broom. "I want to train."
Rion opened his eyes. "Reiko? No. It's dangerous."
"You're five, Rion," she snapped, her voice cracking with emotion. "And you're exploding trees. Don't tell me what's dangerous."
She turned back to Daetsu. "I'm an Uzumaki too. Father taught me the basics of the forms before… before. I have chakra. I can feel it."
Daetsu looked at her. He saw the fear in her eyes, but he also saw the steel spine of her mother.
"Why?" Daetsu asked.
"Because I'm tired of watching," she said simply. "I'm tired of being the one who just waits for bad news. If Rion is going to fight monsters… I won't let him go alone."
Daetsu sighed, a long, weary sound, but he nodded. "Very well. Step up to the tree."
Reiko walked past Rion. She stood before the cedar, next to the crater Rion had made. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands, and focused.
A faint, pale blue aura shimmered around her feet. It was small, steady, and calm.
She stepped onto the trunk. Her foot held. She took another step. Then another. She walked six feet up the trunk before her concentration wavered and she hopped down gracefully.
Rion sat up, mouth agape. "You… you stuck."
Reiko looked at her hands, surprised. "It felt… light."
Daetsu chuckled, the first real laugh he'd had in weeks. "It seems we have a balance. Rion has the power of a tsunami, but the control of a toddler. Reiko has the power of a stream, but the control of a dancer."
Rion looked at his sister. For the first time, he didn't see a victim in black robes. He saw a teammate.
"Teach me," Rion said to her.
Reiko smiled—a small, sad, but genuine smile. "Only if you teach me how to punch."
Later that night, the moon rose high and white.
Rion sat in the Healing Room. The air was thick with the scent of herbs. Keiko lay still, the paper seals on the wall glowing with a faint, rhythmic pulse.
Rion was exhausted. His body ached from the impacts against the tree. His eyes burned.
He leaned his forehead against the mattress near Keiko's hand. "I broke a tree today, Mother," he whispered. "Daetsu says I'm too heavy. Reiko is better at it than me."
He closed his eyes, letting his fatigue take over.
But his eyes didn't turn off.
The Omega Eye flickered open beneath his eyelid.
Suddenly, the darkness of the room vanished. Rion saw the room not as wood and stone, but as a swirling ocean of golden dust.
It was Natural Energy. The shrine was built on a ley line, a place where the earth breathed. The energy drifted aimlessly through the air, glowing motes of power that tasted like rain and sunshine.
Rion watched the dust drift. He looked at his mother.
Her body was a gray void in the golden room. Her chakra system was shriveled, dried up. The natural energy bumped against her skin but couldn't get in. She was closed off.
She needs water, Rion thought dreamily, his mind drifting in the space between sleep and waking. The flowers die without water.
He didn't know a jutsu. He didn't know hand signs. He just felt an instinct, deep in his bones—a memory from a life he didn't remember, or perhaps the Whisper of the Omega itself.
He reached out with his hand. He didn't grab; he beckoned.
Come here, he willed the golden dust.
The room responded. The natural energy swirled, drawn to the vacuum of his Omega eye. It spiraled toward him, entering his skin.
Fire.
It burned. It wasn't the cold weight of his own chakra; it was wild, hot, and sharp. It seared through his small arm, making him gasp.
But he didn't hold it. He pushed it.
He laid his burning hand over Keiko's heart.
Go to her.
The golden light flooded from his palm into her chest.
The reaction was instant. The seals on the walls flared blinded white. The wind outside gusted, rattling the shutters.
Keiko's body arched slightly. Rion watched with his Omega eye as the gray void of her chakra network drank the golden light. It was greedy, desperate. The shriveled coils expanded, just a fraction. The flickering candle of her life force flared brighter, stabilizing from a dying ember to a steady flame.
Rion gasped, pulling his hand back as the connection snapped.
He fell backward off the stool, panting. His arm smoked faintly.
The healers burst into the room a second later, awakened by the flare of the seals.
"What happened?" one shouted, checking the monitors. "Her vitals… they spiked! Her chakra levels are up!"
Rion sat on the floor, clutching his throbbing arm. He looked at his mother. She hadn't woken up. But her breathing… it was deeper. It wasn't mechanical anymore. It was a sleep, not a fading away.
I can help her, Rion realized, his heart hammering. My eyes… they can feed her.
The discovery changed everything.
Rion threw himself into training with a terrifying intensity. He had a goal now. If he could control his chakra, he could channel more natural energy. He could wake her up.
Three days later, he stood at the edge of the koi pond.
"Water Walking," Daetsu said, looking skeptical. "Rion, you haven't mastered the tree yet."
"I need to do this," Rion said. "The tree is solid. The water moves. If I can balance on the water, I can balance the energy for Mother."
Daetsu sighed but nodded. "Go."
Rion stepped onto the water.
Splash. He sank immediately, soaked to his waist.
"Too heavy!" Daetsu called. "You're punching the water again. Be a leaf, not a stone!"
Rion climbed out, dripping wet. He tried again. Splash.
And again. Splash.
Reiko was practicing on a tree nearby, making steady progress. Rion gritted his teeth. The Cold Snake in his gut was laughing at him. It wanted to crush the pond, not walk on it.
I can't feel the surface, Rion thought in frustration. I don't know how much to push.
He squeezed his fists. If I can't feel it… I'll see it.
He channeled chakra into his eyes. Both of them.
The headache slammed into him instantly, a spike of agony behind his forehead. But the world slowed down.
Through the Alpha eye, he saw the tension of the water's surface—the molecular bond holding the liquid together.
Through the Omega eye, he saw the chakra he was putting into his feet. He saw it as a jagged red spike.
Too sharp, he corrected himself, watching the energy flow in real-time. Flatten it.
He visualized the energy spreading out, matching the grid of the water's tension. He molded the Cold Snake, forcing the heavy sludge to spread thin.
He stepped out.
The water depressed under his sandal, bending like a rubber sheet, but it didn't break.
He held his breath. He brought his other foot forward.
He stood.
"He's doing it," Reiko whispered from the tree.
Rion took a step. Then another. He was walking on the surface of the pond, his eyes glowing like twin coals, blood vessels bursting in the whites of his eyes from the strain.
I see it, Rion thought, euphoric. I see the math of the world.
He took a third step.
Drip.
A drop of blood fell from his nose, hitting the water.
The world tilted. The headache turned into a blinding white supernova.
"Rion!" Daetsu shouted.
The connection snapped. Rion's chakra control shattered. The water gave way, and he plunged beneath the surface like a stone.
He didn't swim up. He couldn't. His body had shut down.
Daetsu was in the water a second later, hauling the boy out by his collar. He laid Rion on the grass. Rion was conscious, but barely. Blood streamed from both nostrils, and his eyes were rolled back.
"Foolish boy," Daetsu cursed, checking his pulse. "You pushed too hard."
Rion coughed, spitting up pond water. He looked up at the sky, which was spinning lazily.
He tried to lift his hand, but it trembled uncontrollably.
My eyes, Rion thought, his mind sluggish. They are giants.
But my body is an ant.
He realized the cruelty of his gift. He had the vision of a god and the chakra of a monster, but he was trapped in a vessel made of twigs. If he used the eyes to control the chakra, the strain broke his brain. If he used the chakra without the eyes, he broke the world.
Reiko was there, holding his wet hand, looking terrified.
"I'm okay," Rion whispered, though he wasn't.
He squeezed her hand weakly. He looked at the pond. He had walked three steps.
Next time, he would walk four.
He closed his eyes, the darkness finally welcome, and let the exhaustion take him. The turbulent river inside him settled, waiting for the next storm.