Haruto sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. His fingers trembled faintly as he tried to recall what had happened just hours ago. The sensation of the shadows surging from within, the overwhelming force he couldn't control—it all felt like a distant nightmare. Yet the ache in his body and the faint chill on his fingertips reminded him it was very real.
"What was that?" He muttered under his breath, his voice hollow.
"Why did it felt so overwhelming."
staring at the open book in his lap. The words on the pages seemed to mock him—taunting him with concepts that remained out of reach. He sighed, brushing his fingers over the text. "Focus," he told himself.
Placing the book down, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he extended his hand forward, envisioning the flow of mana the way the book had described. The air around him stirred faintly, but that was all.
His focus wavered. He tightened his jaw and tried again. This time, he felt the faintest flicker of energy within him—a soft, elusive pulse. For a fleeting moment, it felt like he was close, but as quickly as it came, it vanished, slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers.
Haruto slumped back against the wall, exhaling sharply. "Still nothing," he muttered. Despite his calm demeanor, the weight of his inability annoyed him. He placed the book aside and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck.
Deciding to clear his head, Haruto made his way downstairs. The scent of fresh bread wafted through the air, and the familiar creak of the floorboards under his feet filled the silence.
Kazuki, his father, stood by the table, hands resting on its worn surface. When he noticed Haruto enter, he turned, concern etched across his face. "You've been quiet all morning," Kazuki said. "How are you feeling?"
Haruto hesitated, brushing his hand through his hair. "I'm fine," he said simply, avoiding his father's gaze.
Kazuki frowned, his tone softening. "Haruto, what happened few days ago… It's not something you should try to handle on your own. You can talk to me."
"I know," Haruto replied quickly, though his voice carried an edge. He looked away, the memory of the previous day's events fresh in his mind. "But there's nothing to talk about. I just… lost control."
His father stepped closer, crossing his arms. "Haruto, this isn't something you can just ignore. If you don't understand what's happening to you, it could—"
"Dad," Haruto interrupted, his tone sharper than intended. "I'll figure it out."
Kazuki studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine. If you don't want to talk, then let's train."
Haruto blinked. "Train?"
Kazuki nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You've been cooped up in that room all day. Let's get outside. A little physical work will help clear your head."
Haruto opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. He glanced back toward the stairs, where his room—and the book—waited for him. But maybe his father was right.
"Alright," Haruto said quietly.
Kazuki clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Good. Grab your practice blade and meet me outside."
As his father walked toward the door, Haruto lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting to his hands. The shadows he'd unleashed few days ago had felt so real, so uncontrollable. But now, with his father's steady presence, some of that weight felt manageable.
He turned and followed Kazuki outside, as they made their way into the yard, they stood and prepared for training.
Haruto adjusted the wooden practice blade in his grip as he stepped into the yard. The warmth of the morning sun brushed against his skin, but it did little to ease the tension inside him. His father, Kazuki Renma, stood in the center of the open space, rolling his shoulders in preparation.
Kazuki picked up his own practice blade, weighing it in his hands with practiced ease. "You still remember the basics, don't you?" he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
Haruto nodded, his grip tightening on the blade. "I think so."
"Good. Let's see if that bookish head of yours remembers how to swing a sword."
Kazuki's opening strike came quickly, a diagonal slash aimed at Haruto's shoulder. Haruto raised his blade to block, the sound of wood meeting wood echoing through the yard. His movements were steady, but there was hesitation in them.
"You're stiff," Kazuki said, stepping back. "Relax. Don't think—just act."
Haruto tried to loosen up, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The memory of the shadows and the surge of power he'd unleashed the day before still lingered in his mind. but now he focused on what is before him.
looking at his father, he could see things weren't going to be easy.
Kazuki moved forward with another strike, this one faster, aimed low. Haruto sidestepped, barely managing to block in time. "You're holding back," Kazuki said, his tone sharper now. "What's wrong?"
Haruto hesitated, his grip faltering. He stepped back, lowering his blade slightly. "I… I don't know if I can handle this."
Kazuki frowned, lowering his own blade. "Handle what?"
"This," Haruto said, gesturing vaguely to the yard, the practice swords, and then to himself. "You look like you're ready to kill me…"
His voice trailed off, and he looked down at the wooden blade in his hands. For all his intelligence and maturity, there was a raw vulnerability in his expression. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this."
Kazuki laughed. "I have no intentions of hurting you, your mother will kill me if I hurt her boy, I will go easy on you."
"Alright. Let's try again."
Kazuki gave him a small smile, stepping back and raising his blade. "That's more like it. Show me what you've got."
This time, Haruto moved first. He struck high, forcing Kazuki to block, then quickly followed up with a low swing. His movements were sharper, more deliberate, but there was still hesitation in his strikes. Kazuki parried easily, countering with a quick thrust that Haruto barely managed to deflect.
"Better," Kazuki said, stepping to the side. "But stop holding back. If you're afraid of losing control, then use that fear. Channel it."
Haruto gritted his teeth, trying to focus. He tightened his stance, adjusting his grip on the blade. His movements became faster, more fluid, as he pushed himself harder. The clash of wood against wood grew louder as their practice intensified.
Kazuki's strikes were relentless, forcing Haruto to react faster with each swing. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a brief moment, he felt the same stirring he had before—the faint, cold pulse of something deep within him.
He froze for a split second, and Kazuki took advantage, knocking the blade from his hands with a swift disarming strike. Haruto stumbled back, breathing heavily, his eyes wide.
Kazuki lowered his weapon, his expression softening. "That's enough for now."
Haruto bent over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His body ached, and his mind was racing.
"You're overthinking again," Kazuki said, stepping closer. "Whatever's weighing on you, don't let it paralyze you. Take it one step at a time."
Haruto nodded, though the weight in his chest hadn't eased. He wanted to believe his father's words, but the fear of losing control again was still fresh in his mind.
"Thanks, Dad," he said quietly, picking up the fallen blade.
Kazuki clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll keep working on it. You'll get there."
As they walked back toward the house, Haruto couldn't help but glance at the scorched earth on the edge of the yard—the remnants of his outburst. It was a stark reminder of the power within him, a power he didn't yet understand.
For now, he would focus on the training, on taking the next step. But deep down, the fear still lingered. Could he really control this power? Or would it consume him the way it had before?