Raiden's hand trembled as he dragged the brush across the parchment, another symbol added to the growing stack of incomplete scrolls. His muscles ached, his mind was clouded with exhaustion, and the precision of his strokes had deteriorated over the last few hours. Days of writing the seal alphabet over and over again were taking their toll, and yet he pressed on. He had to prove he could handle the task, no matter how grueling.
"Stop," Takeshi's voice cut through the quiet hall. Raiden immediately froze, lowering the brush, his heart sinking. He knew he had been slipping, but stopping felt like giving up.
"You're forcing it," Takeshi said, stepping closer to inspect the scrolls littering the floor. "Your mind is clouded, and it shows in your work."
Raiden clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can keep going," he muttered, his voice tight. He wasn't ready to admit that his body and mind had already reached their limit.
Takeshi narrowed his eyes. "Continuing in this state will only lead to more mistakes. You're tired."
Raiden slumped, the tension in his body refusing to ease. He wanted to keep going, to show Takeshi that he could handle the rigorous training, but even he knew that the elder was right. His concentration had been slipping for hours.
Takeshi sighed and gestured for him to sit down. "Raiden, your father was the same way when he trained under me."
That caught Raiden's attention. He looked up, surprised. "My father?"
Takeshi nodded, pacing slowly around the room. "When your father trained with me, he had the same determination to push past his limits, just as you're doing now. He would exhaust himself completely, believing that if he worked harder, he would succeed."
Raiden stared at Takeshi, struggling to picture his father—the strong and composed clan leader—as someone who had made mistakes or struggled with his training.
"Once, your father spent days trying to master a particular sealing technique," Takeshi continued, his tone thoughtful. "It required perfect chakra control—delicate, precise work. Much like what you're doing now, he worked himself to the point of collapse, convinced that sheer effort would be enough."
Raiden frowned slightly, the image of his father in such a vulnerable state clashing with the man he knew. "Did he succeed?"
Takeshi gave a faint smile, though it was tinged with amusement. "No. In fact, his progress worsened the more he tried. His mind was clouded with frustration, and his chakra control became sloppy. I had to stop him, just as I'm stopping you now."
Raiden swallowed hard, the weight of his own frustration pressing down on him. If even his father had struggled, then perhaps his own failures weren't as damning as they felt. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't progressing fast enough.
"Your father learned an important lesson that day," Takeshi said, his gaze settling on Raiden. "Failure isn't a sign of weakness. It's part of the process. You cannot perfect a technique when you're pushing yourself beyond your limits."
Raiden remained silent, letting Takeshi's words sink in. He had always seen his father as someone who had achieved mastery effortlessly, but hearing that he, too, had struggled made Raiden feel a little less alone in his frustration.
After a moment of quiet, Takeshi gestured for Raiden to rise. "Come, walk with me."
Raiden stood, his muscles protesting as he followed Takeshi around the hall. The silence between them was comfortable now, less tense than before.
As they walked, Takeshi suddenly asked, "Tell me, Raiden, what kind of shinobi do you want to be?"
The question stopped Raiden in his tracks. He looked up at Takeshi, confused. "What do you mean?"
Takeshi met his gaze, his eyes sharp. "I mean, what are you striving for? Do you want to focus solely on seals and become a master of fūinjutsu? Or do you wish to take a different path—perhaps as a medical ninja, or even the clan leader? Or do you see yourself as the sword of the clan, the protector of your people?"
Raiden blinked, the weight of the question hitting him harder than he expected. He had been so focused on training, on becoming stronger, but he had never truly thought about why. What was he training for? What kind of shinobi did he want to be?
He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He didn't know.
Takeshi noticed Raiden's troubled expression and softened his tone. "You don't need to have an answer now. But it's something you should think about. Power means nothing without direction."
Raiden looked down, his mind swirling with uncertainty. He had always thought that becoming strong was enough, but now he realized he had been rushing without a clear goal in mind. What was his true purpose?
Takeshi continued walking, his pace slow and deliberate. "Take your time to think about it. The path of a shinobi is long, and there is no need to rush."
Raiden nodded, grateful for the advice but still troubled by the question.
As they came to a stop near the center of the hall, Takeshi turned to face him. "For now, I'm giving you some time to reflect and recover. We will continue next week."
Raiden looked up, surprised. "Next week?"
Takeshi nodded. "Yes. In the meantime, your homework is to focus on your physical training. Strength and stamina are just as important as mental clarity when mastering fūinjutsu. I want you to spend this week improving your endurance. Run, train your body, and build your stamina. You'll need it for the challenges ahead."
Raiden felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. He had hoped to continue with the seals immediately, but he understood the importance of balance. Takeshi had a point—his physical training had taken a backseat to his obsession with fūinjutsu.
"Understood," Raiden said, bowing slightly. "I'll work on it."
Takeshi gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Reflect on my question, and we'll see where you stand next week."
With that, the elder turned and left the hall, leaving Raiden standing in the quiet, the weight of his teacher's question still hanging over him.
Raiden stood in silence for a moment longer, his thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty. What kind of shinobi do I want to be? It was a question he would need to answer, but for now, he had his task.
He stepped outside into the cool evening air, the village bathed in the soft glow of twilight. As he made his way back home, he silently vowed to build his strength and to find his direction—no matter how long it took.