Ren paused, his hand inches from the handle. Something was wrong. Tatsumi's voice sounded...strange, as if coming from all directions at once.
'He's right, something is wrong,' he thought, stepping back. The fog around the door was moving unnaturally, almost...artificial.
"Are you afraid?" Tatsumi's voice rang out again.
"No, but..." Ren hesitated, trying to voice his feeling. "This door...it's strange."
A gentle laugh came from behind him. Ren turned his head sharply. Tatsumi was sitting on a bench not far away, a scroll on his lap.
"An interesting observation for someone so young," the Sealmaster commented, standing up. "It was a simple illusion, a test to see how detail-oriented you are."
He pointed to an entrance on the opposite side of the building. "That's the real door. The first rule of fuinjutsu: observe everything. The details are as important as the whole."
' I hope this cryptic language is not a common feature in the ninja world.'
The interior of the building was one large room, lit by lamps hanging on the walls. In the center was a low table with four cushions. On it, Ren noticed various tools: brushes of different sizes, ink containers, scrolls and paper.
"Sit down," Tatsumi ordered, taking a seat across from him. "Before you touch a brush, you need to understand what you are doing. What do you know about seals?"
"Are they ... patterns that allow you to manipulate the chakra in specific ways?"
"Superficial, but not wrong." Tatsumi picked up a blank sheet of paper. "The seals are a language. Like any language, it has its own grammar, its own syntax, its own rules. But unlike written words, which must be read to take effect, seals act on the physical world directly."
He drew a line on the paper. "Each stroke is like a word. Each curve is like a sentence. Together, they create instructions for the chakra to follow."
For the next two hours, Tatsumi explained the basic principles of seal calligraphy. How to hold the brush, how to breathe while tracing, how to maintain steady pressure.
"Now you try it," he finally said, handing a brush to Ren. "Draw this line."
Ren took the brush, trying to replicate the movements he had observed. The result was shaky and uneven.
"Again," Tatsumi said simply.
After the 20th time, Ren's arms were sore.
'It's much harder than I thought.'
"Why don't we use regular brushes?" he asked during a pause.
"These brushes are made with special bristles that react to the user's chakra," Tatsumi explained. "Even if you are just practicing the form now, your chakra is already starting to flow through them."
"What about the ink?"
"Standard mixture for now. The chakra-infused ink will come later, when you can draw a decent line." He observed Ren's last attempt. "Like this is not."
The sun was high when they finally took a break for lunch. Tatsumi pulled out two bentō.
"Question," he said as they ate. "Is it possible to create seals without a brush and ink?"
"Ah," Tatsumi smiled. "Were you thinking of chakra-drawn seals? It is possible, but it requires a perfect understanding of seal structure and exceptional chakra control. For now, concentrate on the basics."
The afternoon was devoted to preparing the basic ink. Ren learned how to mix the various ingredients in the right proportion.
"Seal ink must be perfectly balanced," Tatsumi explained. "Too thick and the chakra will not flow properly. Too much liquid and the seal will dissipate."
"How many types of ink are there?"
"More than I know of," Tatsumi admitted. "Each village has its own recipes. Some Sealmasters create their own blends. But they all start from this base."
As the sun began to set, Tatsumi gathered his tools.
"For this week, practice only the basics. No experiments, no attempts to create seals. Just straight and curved lines." He pulled out a small roll. "These are the exercises to follow. See you next Sunday, same time."
"Yes, sens-" he interjected, remembering the ban. "Tatsumi-san."
On the way home, Ren reflected on the day. His arms were as tired as after an intense workout, but his mind was full of new possibilities.
'A language that speaks directly to reality,' he thought. 'With enough study, I could...'
He paused, shaking his head. 'No, I don't have to fantasize. As Tatsumi said: first the fundamentals. One step at a time.'
That night, before sleep, he drew imaginary lines in the air, repeating the learned movements. Sleep found him while still mentally repeating the rhythm of the strokes: 'Inhale-trace-exhale-lift...'