Soul of a Samurai

The wooden training sword in my hand hummed as it cut through the air.

Sweat dripped down my face, soaking into my clothes, but I didn't stop.

One more swing.

One more step forward.

I exhaled sharply, tightening my grip as I raised my sword again.

998…

999…

With one final movement, my arms came down—

1000.

But I wasn't done yet.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my stance, and started again.

1001.

1002.

Because now, my daily swings weren't 1000 anymore.

They were 2000.

A year had passed.

I was now seven years old.

And over the past year, my improvement had been—significant.

I still wasn't strong enough to force Father to fight seriously.

But I was good enough to hold my ground for a while.

My movements were faster, my reactions sharper.

I could dodge, parry, and counter—though my father always found a way to break through.

Still, I was getting better.

And I wasn't just keeping up with my training—I was surpassing it.

Father had left on a few trips over the past year, leaving me to train alone.

Even without him watching, I never slacked off.

I pushed myself, refining everything he had taught me.

But my biggest improvement—

Was my chakra.

Or rather, the blue particles.

I had finally learned their name from Mother.

They were called chakra.

And my control over it had grown drastically.

At first, I had only been able to absorb chakra from my surroundings.

Now, I could manipulate it.

I had learned how to infuse it into my body, strengthening my muscles and making them more durable.

Whenever I fought, I could feel the difference.

I was faster, stronger, more resilient.

And the more I absorbed, the longer I could fight without getting tired.

It was as if I had an infinite supply of energy.

But I wanted more.

I had been experimenting, trying to infuse chakra into my wooden sword.

If I could strengthen my body with chakra, why not my weapon?

But—it wasn't working.

No matter how much chakra I poured into the wood, nothing changed.

I didn't know what I was doing wrong.

Maybe wood wasn't a good conductor of chakra?

Maybe I needed something stronger?

I wasn't sure—but I wasn't going to stop trying.

I exhaled, finishing my final swing.

The sun was already setting.

I had trained from dawn until dusk—again.

My arms felt heavy. My legs ached.

But there was a small smile on my face.

Because today, I had improved.

And tomorrow—I would improve again.