Ren awoke with a peculiar sensation—his body ached in places he didn't know could ache. His arms felt leaden, his legs like overcooked noodles. Strangest of all, the soles of his feet burned as though he'd been running all night.
"Weird dream," he mumbled, stretching arms that somehow felt both weak and stronger simultaneously. No stutter when he was alone—another peculiarity Ren had long ago accepted without question.
Sunlight streamed through his window, illuminating a curious sight on his floor—small dusty footprints leading from his bed to the window and back. His window, which he distinctly remembered being closed when he went to sleep, stood slightly ajar.
*If I were Blade Shadow, I'd immediately deduce an intruder's presence,* Ren thought, mind already spinning heroic scenarios. *But Mom would have heard someone...*
The memory of last night's events crashed over him like a wave—the dream crow, the awakened soul core, his mother's worried eyes. Ren pressed a hand to his chest, but felt nothing unusual. The pulsing black sphere had vanished.
"Ren!" His mother's voice carried from the kitchen. "Are you up? Master Tanaka is expecting us!"
*Right. Today we learn if I'm a freak or a hero.* Blade Shadow would have confidently assumed the latter. Ren, being Ren, worried about the former.
He shuffled into the kitchen, where Kaori busied herself wrapping fresh pastries. Her movements were quick and precise—perhaps too precise, betraying her nervousness.
"Good morning," she said brightly—too brightly. "Did you sleep well after... everything?"
"Y-yeah," Ren nodded, then frowned. Something about that wasn't quite true, but he couldn't pinpoint what. "I think so?"
Kaori paused mid-wrap, studying him with that penetrating maternal gaze that Ren was convinced counted among her superpowers. "You look different this morning."
"D-different how?"
She tilted her head, setting down her work to approach him. Her fingers gently traced his cheek, eyes narrowing in professional assessment. "Your posture is straighter. And did you do something with your hair?"
Ren reached up reflexively. His perpetually messy black locks felt... arranged somehow. Not neat, exactly, but intentionally tousled rather than chaotically disheveled.
"M-maybe I slept on it funny?"
Kaori's eyebrows knitted together, but she didn't press further. "Well, eat quickly. Master Tanaka cleared his morning appointments to see us."
As they walked the familiar path to the apothecary, Ren noticed something unusual. His body seemed to know exactly where to step, automatically avoiding loose cobblestones that had tripped him countless times before. When old Yamada's ill-tempered cat darted across their path—a beast that normally sent Ren scrambling behind his mother—his body merely sidestepped with a grace he'd never possessed.
"S-something feels different," he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Kaori glanced down, nodding slowly. "Soul core awakening changes people, Ren. Though usually not quite so... immediately."
The apothecary bell jingled as they entered, the familiar herbal scents bringing Ren a measure of comfort. Instead of behind his counter, Master Tanaka sat at a small table in the corner, various instruments and scrolls arranged before him. The normal shop clutter had been reorganized, creating a formal consultation space.
"Young Himura," the old man greeted, bowing slightly. "I've been expecting you."
Ren ducked his head, reflexively hiding behind his mother.
"Thank you for seeing us so promptly," Kaori said, gently urging Ren forward. "As I mentioned, his soul core manifested last night, and it's... unusual."
"So you said." Master Tanaka gestured for Ren to sit opposite him. "May I see it, young man?"
Panic flashed through Ren. "I-I don't know h-how to show it again," he stammered. "It j-just appeared l-last night."
Master Tanaka stroked his wispy beard, eyes twinkling with kindness. "The first manifestation often appears spontaneously. But the core is always there now, nestled in your spirit center." He patted his own chest. "Close your eyes. Imagine a small light right here. Focus on making it brighter."
Ren obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that colored spots appeared against the darkness. He imagined a light, like the glowing hand of Sunfire Hero from Volume 3 of "Champions of Dawn."
Nothing happened.
"I-I can't," he whispered, shame burning his cheeks.
"Hmm." Master Tanaka's voice remained gentle. "Perhaps try imagining that crow from your dream instead."
Ren's eyes snapped open. "H-how did you—"
"Your mother told me this morning," Master Tanaka explained. "Crow spirits are rare, but not unheard of. Try again, but picture the crow instead of abstract light."
Ren closed his eyes once more. This time, he envisioned the massive crow from his dream, its feathers black as midnight, eyes like twin blood moons. In his imagination, the crow cawed—a sound he felt rather than heard, resonating through his body like distant thunder.
A gasp from his mother told him something was happening.
When Ren opened his eyes, the black sphere hovered before his chest, crimson veins pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The tiny shadow within had grown clearer overnight—definitely a bird now, wings spread mid-flight.
Master Tanaka leaned forward, spectacles sliding down his nose as he examined the manifestation. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Not just unusual coloration, but exceptional density for a first awakening." He glanced at Kaori. "You were right to bring him promptly."
"Is something wrong with me?" Ren blurted, anxiety overwhelming his usual reticence.
"Wrong? No." Master Tanaka shook his head. "Different, certainly. Most children your age manifest something far simpler—a colored wisp, perhaps, or a small flame like your mother's." He gestured at the hovering sphere. "This level of manifestation typically takes years of training to achieve."
"What does it m-mean?"
Master Tanaka reached for a weathered tome among his scrolls, flipping through yellowed pages with practiced care. "Crow spirits are traditionally associated with perception, foresight, and adaptability. But the coloration—black with red veins—suggests something deeper." He paused at a particular page, finger tracing faded illustrations. "There are old stories of fragmented spirits, ones that contain multiple aspects or... personalities, for lack of a better term."
Kaori's hand found Ren's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Multiple personalities? Like separate people?"
"Not exactly," Master Tanaka clarified. "More like different facets of the same soul, each with distinct strengths and characteristics." He studied Ren with newfound intensity. "Tell me, young man, have you noticed anything unusual since the awakening? Strange thoughts? Skills you didn't possess before?"
The footprints on his bedroom floor. The mysterious aches. His suddenly improved coordination.
"I think..." Ren began, then stopped, uncertain how to explain the inexplicable feeling of being both himself and not himself simultaneously.
"S-someone else used my b-body last night," he finally whispered.
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Kaori's grip on his shoulder tightened almost painfully.
"Ren, what do you mean?" his mother asked, voice strained.
He pointed at his feet. "My feet h-hurt like I was running. There were f-footprints in my room. From the b-bed to the window. And I heard a v-voice, right before falling asleep."
"What did this voice say?" Master Tanaka asked, surprisingly calm.
"It s-said... 'I'll make us strong while you sleep.'" Ren's voice grew steadier as he recalled the words. "It sounded like me, but... n-not me. Stronger."
Master Tanaka nodded slowly, as if confirming a theory. "It's as I suspected. Your soul core hasn't just awakened, Ren—it's awakened with a duality. Perhaps more than one, given time."
"What does that mean for my son?" Kaori demanded, maternal protectiveness sharpening her usually gentle tone.
Master Tanaka raised a placating hand. "It means he has rare potential, Kaori-san. Potential that must be properly trained, preferably in a structured environment with experienced guidance."
The implication hung unspoken between the adults. Ren, despite his social awkwardness, understood immediately.
"The Y-Young Rankers Academy," he whispered.
His mother's face paled. The academy, located at the edge of their village, trained children with awakened soul cores in the fundamentals of becoming Rankers—those who used their abilities to battle demons and protect humanity. Most children attended day classes, but cases like Ren's—rare or complex awakenings—typically required full residency.
"He's so young," Kaori protested weakly. "And his temperament isn't suited for combat training. Surely there are alternatives?"
Master Tanaka's expression softened with sympathy. "I understand your concerns. But consider the alternative—an untrained duality could become dangerous, both to Ren and others. Without proper guidance, the separate aspects of his soul might compete rather than cooperate. The academy has experience with such cases."
Ren's mind whirled with contradictory emotions. Terror at the thought of leaving home, of navigating a new environment full of strangers without his mother's protection. Excitement at the possibility of becoming like the heroes in his manga. And underneath it all, a strange new feeling he couldn't quite identify—a certainty that somehow, he would manage.
*That isn't me,* he realized with sudden clarity. *That's... the other one. The nighttime me.*
"C-can I try something?" Ren asked, interrupting the adults' conversation.
Both turned to him with surprise. Ren rarely volunteered to speak, let alone to try anything new.
"Of course," Master Tanaka encouraged.
Ren closed his eyes again, focusing on his still-manifested soul core. But instead of picturing the crow, he imagined reaching inside the sphere, trying to contact the presence he'd felt last night.
*Are you there?* he thought, feeling slightly ridiculous. *The one who used my body?*
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a door swinging open in his mind, Ren felt a distinct presence—watchful, alert, and surprisingly protective.
*I'm here,* came the response, using Ren's own mental voice but with a confidence the boy had never possessed. *I'm Kage. I'm part of you, but different. I'm the strength you need.*
Ren gasped, eyes flying open. "He's in me! He t-told me his name! Kage!"
Master Tanaka leaned forward, excitement overriding his professional detachment. "You've established communication already? Remarkable! What else did he say?"
"He s-said he's part of me, but different. That he's the s-strength I need." Ren's stutter lessened as excitement overtook anxiety. "Is that normal?"
"Normal? No. But not unprecedented." Master Tanaka turned to a different page in his tome, revealing illustrations of warriors with shadowy duplicates. "Some of history's most powerful Rankers exhibited similar traits—multiple aspects of themselves, each with specialized abilities, working in harmony."
"Or discord," Kaori added quietly. "There are stories about fragmented souls turning against themselves, aren't there?"
Master Tanaka couldn't deny it. "Yes, which is precisely why proper training is essential. At the academy, Ren can learn to integrate these aspects rather than having them compete."
Ren barely heard the conversation continuing around him. He was preoccupied with the strange sensation of having another consciousness nestled alongside his own—not invasive or threatening, but protective, like an older brother watching over him.
*Why did you come out last night?* Ren asked silently.
*To begin our training,* Kage responded matter-of-factly. *Your body is weak. Your reflexes are slow. We must be stronger to face what's coming.*
*What's coming?* Ren questioned, alarmed.
A hesitation, then: *I don't know exactly. But the crow chose us for a reason. We must be ready.*
The certainty in Kage's mental voice sent a shiver down Ren's spine. For all his daydreams about heroism, the reality of "what's coming" sounded considerably less appealing than manga adventures.
"I think I s-should go," Ren said suddenly, interrupting whatever Master Tanaka had been explaining to his mother. "To the academy."
Both adults stared at him, clearly surprised by this uncharacteristic decisiveness.
"Ren, are you sure?" Kaori asked, concern etching her features. "You don't have to decide right now. We can think about this, discuss options—"
"Kage s-says we need training," Ren explained simply. "He s-says something's coming and we need to be r-ready."
Master Tanaka and Kaori exchanged troubled glances.
"What exactly did this... Kage... say is coming?" the old apothecary asked carefully.
Ren shrugged. "He d-doesn't know exactly. But the c-crow chose us for a reason."
"The crow spirit," Master Tanaka murmured thoughtfully. "Harbingers of change, bridges between worlds. If it specifically selected you, Ren, then perhaps..." He trailed off, lost in ancient legends and possibilities.
Kaori knelt before her son, taking his small hands in hers. "Ren, this is a big decision. The academy is... challenging. The training is difficult, and the other children can be—" She paused, clearly searching for a diplomatic description.
"M-mean?" Ren suggested, no stranger to childish cruelty despite his limited social interactions.
"Competitive," Kaori amended gently. "And you've always struggled with new people and places."
*Tell her I'll help with that,* Kage prompted.
"K-Kage says he'll help," Ren relayed obediently. "He's s-stronger than me. Not scared of people."
Kaori's eyes glistened suspiciously. "And that's exactly what concerns me. I don't want you depending on this... other self... rather than developing your own strengths."
*She misunderstands,* Kage observed. *I am your strength—just a part you haven't recognized yet.*
Master Tanaka cleared his throat. "If I may, Kaori-san, I believe the academy is genuinely the safest option. Instructor Koda is experienced with unusual manifestations. And Ren can still visit home regularly—it's not as though he's being sent away forever."
Kaori remained kneeling before Ren, searching his face as if memorizing every detail. "Is this truly what you want, my dreamer?"
For once, Ren didn't hesitate. "Y-yes. I want to be s-strong. Like in my stories."
A bittersweet smile crossed Kaori's face. "Life isn't quite like your manga, Ren. Real heroes get scared. They fail sometimes. They get hurt."
"I know," Ren said, surprising himself with his certainty. "But they t-try anyway, right?"
Something in his words seemed to reach his mother. She sighed deeply, then nodded. "Very well. I'll speak with Instructor Koda this afternoon." She cupped his cheek gently. "But promise me something?"
"What?"
"Remember that Kage isn't separate from you—he's part of you. Don't let him become the only part that matters."
*She's wise,* Kage commented approvingly. *We should listen to her.*
The rest of the consultation involved practical matters—academy schedules, equipment requirements, visitation policies. Ren half-listened, his attention divided between the external conversation and the internal presence that occasionally offered observations.
As they prepared to leave, Master Tanaka handed Ren a small wooden token carved with a crow in flight. "For focus," he explained. "When you wish to manifest your core or communicate with your other aspect, hold this. It will help center your intentions until you develop more control."
"Thank you," Ren said, clutching the token tightly. The smooth wood felt warm against his palm, almost alive.
On their walk home, Kaori remained uncharacteristically quiet. Ren, too, found himself lost in thought, processing the morning's revelations. The village around them seemed somehow different—as if overnight, the world had expanded beyond recognition.
"Mom?" Ren finally asked, breaking the silence. "Are you d-disappointed? That I'm not n-normal?"
Kaori stopped walking, turning to face him with fierce intensity. "Ren Himura, listen carefully. I have never, not for one moment, wanted you to be 'normal.' I've only ever wanted you to be happy and safe." She knelt to his level, gripping his shoulders. "If becoming a Ranker is your path to happiness, then I support you completely. I'm just afraid—"
"Of l-losing me," Ren finished, displaying unusual perceptiveness.
"Yes." The simple admission carried the weight of years of single motherhood, of quiet nights spent worrying, of dreams deferred to provide stability.
Ren, normally uncomfortable with emotional moments, surprised them both by throwing his arms around her neck. "Y-you won't lose me. I'll become the s-strongest Ranker ever. I'll m-make you proud."
"You already make me proud, my dreamer," she whispered against his hair. "Every single day."
That evening, after a special dinner of Ren's favorite foods, Kaori helped him pack his belongings for the academy. His manga collection presented a particular challenge—too numerous to bring entirely, too precious to leave completely.
"Choose your five favorites," Kaori suggested practically. "The rest will be waiting when you visit."
Five? An impossible choice! But under Kage's pragmatic influence, Ren managed to select his most inspirational volumes—stories of beginners becoming heroes through determination and training.
After everything was packed, Ren sat cross-legged on his futon, turning Master Tanaka's token between his fingers. Curiosity burned inside him, along with no small amount of trepidation.
"Kage?" he whispered aloud. "Can I... see you? Somehow?"
*Not yet,* came the response. *Not physically. But if you close your eyes and enter our mindscape, perhaps we can meet there.*
"Our w-what?"
*Mindscape. The shared internal space of our consciousness.*
Ren had no idea what that meant, but he obeyed, closing his eyes and clutching the wooden token. For several minutes, nothing happened beyond the usual darkness of closed eyelids.
Then, like ink spreading through water, the darkness transformed. Ren found himself standing in a vast library, shelves stretching infinitely in all directions. Looking down, he realized he wore the ornate robes of Blade Shadow, his favorite hero. Every shelf contained manga volumes—some familiar, others with blank spines awaiting stories yet to be written.
"Welcome to our mindscape," said a voice behind him.
Ren turned to find... himself. Yet not himself. The figure that stood before him wore his face but carried it differently—chin higher, eyes sharper, stance balanced and ready. He wore a simple black training uniform, practical and unadorned.
"K-Kage?" Ren stammered, though his speech impediment seemed lessened in this internal space.
The other nodded. "A projection of your strength, given form through your awakening." He gestured around at the endless library. "Your mind organized our shared space in a way that makes sense to you. Interesting that you chose a repository of stories rather than a training ground."
"I didn't choose anything," Ren protested. "It just... appeared."
"Because stories are how you understand the world," Kage explained, moving to examine nearby shelves. "You process everything through the lens of your manga heroes." He selected a volume, opening to a dramatic battle scene. "Not necessarily a weakness, if we use it correctly. Heroes have much to teach about determination and sacrifice."
Ren approached cautiously, studying his other self with fascination. "Are you... real? Or just in my head?"
Kage smiled—a small, controlled expression so different from Ren's own hesitant grins. "Both, in a way. I'm a part of you that you haven't integrated yet. The strength and confidence you possess but haven't accessed." He replaced the manga volume. "While you sleep, I'll build our physical capabilities. During your waking hours, I'll be here, accessible when needed."
"Like a s-superhero transformation?" Ren asked, eyes widening with excitement.
"In a manner of speaking," Kage conceded, though his expression suggested the comparison lacked sophistication. "But remember what your mother said—I'm not separate from you, just a different expression of who you are." He fixed Ren with an intense gaze. "We should be careful about this ability at the academy, at least initially. Others might not understand."
"You mean I s-shouldn't tell anyone?"
"Not until we better understand it ourselves," Kage advised. "Watch and learn first. There will be time for revelation later."
Before Ren could ask more questions, the library began to fade around them, colors bleeding into darkness.
"Our connection is weakening," Kage explained. "You need rest before tomorrow. We'll speak again."
"Wait!" Ren called, reaching toward his other self. "What if I n-need you during the day? How do I reach you?"
Kage's form was already translucent, but his voice remained clear. "I'm always with you. In moments of true need, you'll find me. Just remember—your emotions open the door between us. Fear can summon me, but so can determination. Choose the latter whenever possible."
With those words, the mindscape dissolved completely. Ren opened his eyes to find himself still sitting on his futon, Master Tanaka's token warm in his palm. Outside his window, a crow perched on the sill, watching him with unnaturally intelligent eyes.
"Tomorrow," Ren whispered to the bird, uncertainty and anticipation battling within him. "Tomorrow everything changes."
The crow cawed once—a sound that seemed to contain both warning and promise—before spreading its wings and vanishing into the night sky.
Ren lay back on his futon, wondering if sleep would come with so much nervous energy coursing through him. But almost immediately, a peculiar calmness washed over him, muscles relaxing one by one as if guided by an invisible hand.
*Rest,* Kage's voice whispered from within. *I'll stand guard tonight.*
Comforted by the presence of his other self, Ren surrendered to sleep. His last conscious thought was unexpected but somehow perfect:
*Maybe I'm not the weak one after all. Maybe the hero was inside me all along, waiting for the right moment to emerge.*
And somewhere in the darkness, the fragment of consciousness that called itself Kage smiled at the wisdom hidden within the boy's innocent observation.