Kairo sat cross-legged on the cold, sterile floor of the training room. The walls were bare, save for the faint patterns of wear from years of use. A single dim light hummed overhead, casting long shadows that made the space feel even more oppressive. In the corner of the room, Roderick leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on Kairo like a hawk sizing up its prey.
"Close your eyes," Roderick commanded, his voice as cold as ever. "Focus inward. Forget this room, forget me. The only thing that matters is your aura."
Kairo obeyed, his breath steady as he tried to shut out the lingering aches in his body. The sensation of his aura still felt foreign—like a storm trapped beneath his skin. It pulsed erratically, not unlike the chaotic rhythm of his thoughts.
"Your aura is leaking," Roderick said sharply. "You're wasting energy without realizing it. You need to contain it. Picture it as water in a dam. Build the walls, or it'll spill everywhere."
Kairo furrowed his brow, trying to follow the instructions. He imagined a dam holding back a massive reservoir of energy, the pressure mounting as he forced the flow inward. For a moment, he felt like he had it—his aura steadied, the storm quieted. But then it surged, spilling out again, and Kairo gasped as the effort left him winded.
"Pathetic," Roderick muttered. "A child could do better. Stop thinking so much. Aura is instinctive. Feel it. Command it."
Kairo clenched his fists. The frustration was mounting, but he didn't let it show. He knew Roderick was testing him, pushing him to the edge. It was a game of control—not just of aura, but of mind.
"Again," Roderick said.
This time, Kairo slowed his breathing, his thoughts clearer. He pictured the dam again, but instead of fighting the flow, he allowed the energy to settle naturally, like water finding its level. The chaotic pulses began to soften, and for the first time, Kairo felt a sense of calm within the storm.
Roderick raised an eyebrow. "Better. Now keep it that way."
The calm didn't last long. As soon as Roderick spoke, Kairo's concentration wavered, and the floodgates opened. His aura flared outward, filling the room with a chaotic, unrestrained force. The pressure was overwhelming, and Kairo collapsed forward, gasping for air.
"Pathetic," Roderick repeated, his tone more cutting than before. "You're letting your emotions control you. If you can't master this, you'll never survive."
Kairo glared at him, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's not that simple."
Roderick stepped closer, his presence imposing. "It is that simple. Control is everything. Without it, you're just another failure. Do you want to be another failure, Kairo?"
The question cut deeper than Kairo cared to admit. His whole life had been about surviving—enduring what no child should endure. But this was different. This was about mastery. And for the first time, Kairo realized that survival wasn't enough. He needed to win.
He forced himself back into position, closing his eyes again. This time, he didn't picture a dam. Instead, he imagined his aura as an extension of himself—something alive, something he could shape. The chaotic pulses became threads, weaving together into a cohesive flow. It was still rough, still unsteady, but it held.
Minutes passed, and Kairo kept his focus. The storm was still there, but it no longer felt like it was fighting him. It felt... malleable.
Roderick finally spoke, his tone less harsh. "Not bad. For a beginner."
Kairo opened his eyes, his vision slightly blurred from the strain. He didn't respond, but the faintest hint of a smirk crossed his lips. It wasn't much, but it was progress.
Roderick straightened, his cold demeanor unchanging. "This is just the start. Next, you'll learn the Four Major Principles of Nen: Ten, Zetsu, Ren, and Hatsu. Master these, and you'll begin to understand what true power feels like."
Kairo nodded, determination flickering in his amethyst eyes. He didn't know where this path would lead, but for the first time, he felt like he was walking toward something more.