Darkness.
Not the violent kind.
Not the kind that devoured.
This darkness waited.
Tobi stood barefoot on an endless black surface that reflected nothing—not the sky above, not his own body. There was no ground, yet he stood. No wind, yet he could breathe.
"…Where am I?" his voice echoed, then dissolved.
A faint sound answered.
Clink.
Metal.
Behind him.
Tobi turned.
A sword was embedded in the void itself, upright, unmoving. Its blade was split perfectly down the centre—one half glowing softly like dawn, the other absorbing all light like a moonless night.
His sword.
But something was wrong.
The light side trembled.
The dark side was perfectly still.
"You came faster than I expected."
The voice was calm. Deep. Too close.
Tobi spun around.
A man stood a few steps away.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing simple dark robes tied loosely at the waist. His long black hair was tied back, and a faint scar ran across his neck—not threatening, just there. His eyes were sharp but tired, like someone who had seen too much and survived anyway.
He carried a sword on his back.
Not glowing.
Not dark.
Balanced.
"Who… are you?" Tobi asked.
The man tilted his head slightly. "Names matter here."
He paused.
"…Kaien."
The moment the name settled, the space reacted.
The void rippled outward like disturbed water.
Tobi's chest tightened. "You're… inside me?"
Kaien smiled faintly. "No. You're inside yourself. I just happen to be part of the problem."
Before Tobi could respond—
Kaien moved.
No warning.
No aura.
The sword was already out.
Tobi barely managed to step back as steel passed through where his neck had been. The air split. The sound echoed like thunder inside his skull.
He stumbled, heart racing.
"Hey—!"
Kaien didn't stop.
Strike after strike followed—clean, precise, relentless. Not wild attacks. Not killing blows.
Testing blows.
Tobi raised his hands instinctively—
And his sword flew into his grip.
The moment his fingers wrapped around it, the world reacted.
Light flared.
Shadow deepened.
The ground beneath them solidified into cracked white stone floating in darkness.
Steel met steel.
The impact rattled Tobi's arms all the way to his shoulders.
"You're slow," Kaien said calmly, pushing him back. "Not physically."
Tobi gritted his teeth and swung again. This time, the dark edge lashed out first—too fast, too sharp.
Kaien stepped inside the arc and slammed his elbow into Tobi's chest.
Pain exploded.
Tobi flew backwards and crashed hard, skidding across the stone.
He gasped—not for air, but from shock.
"This is training?" Tobi snapped.
Kaien walked toward him slowly. "This is reality."
Tobi pushed himself up, shaking. "I didn't ask for this power."
Kaien stopped.
"…Neither did I."
For just a moment, something heavy passed through Kaien's eyes.
Then it vanished.
Kaien raised his sword again. "Get up."
Tobi hesitated.
Fear crept in—not of Kaien, but of the sword in his hands.
Every time he moved it, something answered.
Every time he felt emotion, the blade reacted.
"I'm scared," Tobi admitted quietly. "If I lose control… people will get hurt."
Kaien nodded once. "Good."
Tobi blinked. "Good?"
"Fear means you're still human," Kaien said. "But you're doing the wrong thing with it."
Kaien suddenly vanished—
—and reappeared behind him.
Tobi turned too late.
Kaien's blade stopped a hair's breadth from his spine.
"You're trying to suppress it," Kaien said. "That's why it resists you."
The sword in Tobi's hand trembled violently.
Light flared erratically.
Shadow surged.
Tobi dropped to one knee, gripping the hilt tightly.
"I don't want to become a monster!"
Kaien pulled his sword away and stepped back.
"Then stop treating half of yourself like one."
Silence fell.
The sword's trembling slowed—but didn't stop.
Kaien sheathed his blade. "You think acceptance means surrender."
He placed a hand over his own chest.
"It doesn't. It means responsibility."
Tobi's breathing steadied.
Slowly, he stood.
"…What do I do?" he asked.
Kaien gestured toward the sword embedded in the void behind them.
"Don't command it."
The embedded sword pulsed.
"Don't reject it."
The dark half hummed softly.
"Listen."
Tobi closed his eyes.
For the first time since the awakening—
He didn't push the darkness away.
He didn't cling to the light.
He acknowledged both.
The sword in his hand changed.
The glow softened.
The shadow warmed.
Not weaker.
Aligned.
The void around them shifted—forming a horizon. A sky. A distant rising sun half-covered by night.
Kaien smiled—this time genuinely.
"…Good," he said.
Tobi opened his eyes.
"What happens now?"
Kaien turned away, walking toward the horizon.
"Now," he said, "you'll fail again."
Tobi stiffened.
"But next time," Kaien continued, "you won't break."
The world began to fade.
"Kaien!" Tobi called out. "Will I see you again?"
Kaien stopped, just once.
"When you stop asking that," he said quietly, "you won't need me."
Darkness folded inward.
Light followed.
---
Tobi's eyes snapped open.
He was in his bed.
Morning light filtered through the window.
His chest no longer hurts.
But his hands—
They were clenched.
Not in fear.
In readiness.
Somewhere deep inside, a sword rested.
Waiting.
The morning felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not heavy.
Just… too quiet.
Tobi slowly unclenched his hands. His fingers ached—not like injury, but like they had been gripping something far heavier than steel.
He sat up.
The room looked the same. Plain walls. Half-open window. Curtains are moving gently with the breeze.
Yet the air felt thicker.
When he placed his feet on the floor, the wood creaked softly—and for half a second, he thought he heard another sound beneath it.
Metal.
His breath caught.
"No," he whispered to himself.
But the feeling didn't leave.
As he stood, his balance shifted strangely, as the world corrected itself a moment too late. Not dizziness. Adjustment. As if his body was learning a new centre.
Tobi moved to the mirror.
He froze.
His eyes were normal.
Both of them.
No glow. No distortion. No sign of what had happened.
And yet—
When he raised his hand, the reflection lagged by the smallest fraction of a second.
He lowered it.
The lag vanished.
"…I'm awake," he said aloud. "So why does it still feel like I'm there?"
The memory surfaced uninvited.
> "You'll fail again."
Kaien's voice didn't echo.
It didn't repeat.
It simply existed, like a statement carved into stone.
Tobi pressed his palm against his chest.
No pain.
But deep inside, something responded—not violently, not loudly.
A quiet acknowledgement.
Like a blade settling into its sheath.
---
Later, as he stepped outside, the world felt sharper.
Sounds layered instead of blending. Footsteps carried weight. Voices carried intent. Even the wind felt… directional, like it knew where it wanted to go.
He didn't like how easily he noticed.
At the school grounds—temporary buildings erected near the ruins—students moved carefully, voices lowered. The scars of destruction weren't just physical anymore.
They were emotional.
Tobi walked through them.
And for the first time—
He felt eyes follow him without fear.
Not admiration.
Assessment.
That bothered him more.
---
During training, it happened again.
Not an explosion.
Not a surge.
A mistake.
His timing was off by a heartbeat. His stance shifted too early.
And the practice blade slipped from his grip.
It hit the mat with a dull sound.
Silence followed.
Tobi stared at it.
His chest tightened—not with panic, but with something colder.
> Fail again.
His fingers twitched.
For half a second, he felt the urge to reach—
Not physically.
Something deeper responded, eager, precise, ready to correct.
He stopped himself.
Sweat rolled down his neck.
"No," he thought. "Not like that."
When he picked the blade back up, he did it slowly. Deliberately.
Human speed.
Human correction.
From the edge of the field, Sumi watched.
She didn't step forward.
She didn't interrupt.
But her eyes narrowed—not in suspicion.
In recognition.
---
That evening, as the sky darkened and shadows lengthened naturally instead of unnaturally, Tobi walked the outer path of the grounds to clear his head.
Footsteps matched his pace.
He didn't look surprised when Sumi appeared beside him.
They walked in silence for a while.
Then she spoke.
"Your aura changed," she said quietly.
Tobi exhaled. "I was hoping it didn't."
"It didn't grow louder," Sumi corrected. "It grew… deeper."
He stopped walking.
She stopped too.
"I met someone," Tobi said after a moment. "Not physically."
Sumi didn't ask who.
"Did he teach you?" she asked instead.
Tobi shook his head. "He didn't let me hide."
That answer seemed to satisfy her.
After a pause, she said, "That's more dangerous."
Tobi looked up at the darkening sky.
"Yeah," he replied softly. "I think that was the point."
They resumed walking.
Behind them, unnoticed by both—
The shadow cast by Tobi's body lingered half a second longer than it should have.
Not wrong.
Just… learning.
And somewhere far beyond sight, beyond councils and enemies and watchers—
A presence that had tested him once
opened its eyes again.
Not to intervene.
Not to protect.
But to observe what came after acceptance.