Soul of a Samurai

The morning light seeped through the thin curtains of my room, gently waking me from my sleep.

I stretched, rubbing my eyes and glancing around the room. My muscles still ached from yesterday's training, but the fatigue was a familiar and comforting feeling.

I turned toward the door to find my father standing there in his usual white armor.

His sword was sheathed at his side, its weight a constant reminder of the battles he had fought in.

"Kyojin," he said, his voice steady as always, though there was something different today.

I looked up at him, unsure of what was happening.

"You're going to have to train on your own for a while," Father continued, his expression serious. "I have a mission to attend to. I'll be gone for some time, but you're ready to continue your training without me."

I nodded slowly, understanding.

He gave me one last glance before turning to my mother, offering a quick farewell as he left the house.

It was quiet after he left, and I felt a small pang of unease. Even though I had been training without him for a while, this felt different. My father was leaving for a mission—something important.

I sighed and began my usual routine, not allowing the unease to slow me down.

The day was calm, and I started by absorbing the chakra in the air around me. I focused, letting the energy flow into my body, feeling the familiar warmth spread through my muscles.

I had been experimenting with chakra recently—particularly trying to develop a technique I called chakra armor.

It wasn't perfect by any means. The technique required more control and precision than I had yet mastered, but I was making progress.

I had started by shaping chakra into specific areas of my body, focusing on the parts I felt needed the most protection. The first area I focused on was my feet. By infusing chakra into them, I was able to enhance my speed, almost doubling how fast I could move.

While it didn't look like anything special yet—just a faint, glowing outline of chakra around my feet—it was a start. I could feel the difference, the added speed and control.

I spent the rest of the morning perfecting this technique, trying to make my chakra armor more efficient.

After practicing chakra armor for a while, I moved on to my physical training.

It was time for my usual 4000 swings.

It was the most I could do right now, but it was better than when I had first started, and that felt like an accomplishment. My arms burned after every set, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

I knew my father wouldn't want me to quit.

So I pushed through, swinging my sword over and over, focusing on the rhythm and the energy behind every strike.

Once I finished the swings, I decided to go for a run.

I put my wooden sword aside and took off into the village. The air was cool, the morning light shining brightly over the land. It felt good to stretch my legs, to push myself beyond what I had already done.

I ran for hours, my feet hitting the earth in steady rhythm. I didn't need to think about it anymore. It was just part of me, part of my training.

After a while, I switched things up.

I dropped to my hands, turning my run into a form of handstand sprinting. The earth scraped against my palms, but the challenge of it kept me going.

It wasn't until the sun began to dip lower in the sky that I finally slowed down and headed back to the house.

I felt the exhaustion building up, but it was the satisfying kind. The kind that came with a day well spent.

By the time I returned, the house was quiet.

I washed up quickly and sat down with my mother at the dinner table, both of us sharing a simple meal.

She smiled at me, but there was a sadness in her eyes that I couldn't quite place. I didn't say anything about it, though. I just focused on my food, the warmth of her presence helping to quiet the lingering unease I felt.

When dinner was done, I excused myself, heading to my room.

I collapsed onto my bed, letting the day's training wash over me. My body ached, but I didn't mind. It was the feeling of growth, of improvement.

And as I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, I thought about the training that still lay ahead.

Father may have left, but my training would continue. I had learned enough to keep going on my own.

And that was the beginning of something even greater.