During their lesson with Drake, both Maria and Renjiro were able to quickly adapt to and train the newly learned move, the Mercenary Burst, neither falling behind the other. The explosive acceleration technique, designed to close distances instantly, seemed to click with their young bodies, almost as if they were born to wield such speed.
Although Drake was visibly impressed by their rapid progress, he considered introducing another, more advanced technique. However, he ultimately decided against it, wanting them to fully master the Mercenary Burst before moving on.
After their rigorous training session ended, Maria and Renjiro headed their separate ways. Renjiro, however, couldn't afford to waste a single moment. Despite the biting cold of the winter air, he immediately set his sights on the nearby forest. His marked training area was relatively close to their cabin, a secluded spot he'd chosen for his more unconventional practices.
Today is the day, he thought, his breath misting in the frigid air. I've seen a noticeable improvement in my reaction time. I can't definitively say it's Haki yet, but I feel like when I'm attacked, I can react or even sense it a moment before it hits me. All I have to do is meditate more and focus on its training. He recalled the schedule he'd mentally created, the "Renzo plan," which had inadvertently contributed to his heightened reactions. Meditation is crucial for this.
Observation Haki will be something I'll need at the beginning, especially since I don't think at such a young age I can endure Armament Haki training yet, he mused, considering the sheer physical toll Armament Haki demanded. He resolved to prioritize his observational abilities first.
He found his secluded spot and sat down, ready to begin his meditation. As he settled onto the snow-dusted ground, something caught his eye—a wooden spear, seemingly left abandoned, lying flat on the ground nearby.
Was this just left here? he thought, a flicker of surprise, then curiosity, crossing his face. He picked it up, examining its smooth, well-worn shaft and slightly blunted tip. What's a wooden spear doing out here anyways? Never mind that. Let's try that Mercenary Burst I learned from Drake.
Renjiro stood, holding the wooden spear, its weight surprisingly balanced in his small hands. He recalled Drake's demonstration of the Mercenary Burst—that explosive, forward acceleration designed to overwhelm an opponent. He adjusted his grip, a determined glint in his eye. Focus on pushing off with your lead leg, channeling all your power forward.
He took a deep breath, coiled his body, and then exploded forward. His five-year-old frame shot across the snowy clearing, the spear held out before him like a natural extension of his arm. It wasn't just speed; it was a focused, piercing momentum. He ended the lunge perfectly balanced, the spear's tip pointing directly ahead.
A wide, uninhibited grin spread across Renjiro's face. It fits! It really fits me! The feeling was immediate and exhilarating, a sense of profound rightness he hadn't experienced with a sword. The spear's reach, its potential for fluid, sweeping motions, instantly resonated with his mind.
Overwhelmed by a surge of pure joy and discovery, Renjiro began to move, no longer practicing a specific technique but simply dancing with the weapon. He spun, the spear blurring into a protective circle around him, then thrust it forward with a satisfied grunt. He parried imaginary blows, his body flowing into a defensive stance, then whirled and delivered a powerful, sweeping strike. Each movement felt natural, effortless. He twirled the spear with newfound confidence, the wooden shaft whistling softly through the cold air.
He laughed aloud, a genuine, joyful sound that echoed through the quiet forest. This wasn't just training; it was finding a part of himself. The spear, he realized, wasn't just a weapon; it was his calling.
After toying around with the spear, dancing in the snow with newfound joy, Renjiro finally lay flat on the ground, chest heaving.
"Hmph, hmph," he panted, a wide, contented smile still on his face. "Man, I think I've found my life partner. Who would've known that the spear would be so much fun? Although swords get such sheer, blind loyalty from people fantasizing about cool slashes and fancy moves, the possibilities with a polearm are astronomical."
A fresh dilemma, however, began to surface in his mind. "But wouldn't it be better if I learned both the sword and the spear? The amount of time it'll take to master both of them... I don't think I'll survive an enemy attack if I try to master both, as they take time and could decrease my overall efficiency." He paused, considering. "No, I should stick with Drake's sword training for now, but also commit to personal training here with the spear." This pragmatic approach, blending his current opportunities with his long-term goals, felt right.
Renjiro, invigorated by his decision, carefully took his new wooden polearm and laid it gently beside the familiar rock where he intended to meditate. He then sat down, crossing his legs comfortably, and closed his eyes, striving to quiet the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.
One hour later...
Renjiro's eyes snapped open, a flicker of frustration crossing his young face. "What was I expecting? This isn't just going to click instantly. I'll need to meditate longer and rid myself of any thoughts." He considered an alternative. "I could try navigating the forest back to the cabin blindfolded, to force my senses to adapt, but no... let's just keep mediating. Consistency is key." He settled back down, taking a deeper breath, determined to push through the initial mental resistance and truly focus on sensing the world around him.
Renjiro returned to his meditative posture, his small hands resting on his knees, palms up. He focused intently, not on what he could see or hear, but on the subtler currents of the forest around him. The biting cold faded from his awareness, replaced by a quiet hum of the natural world. He consciously pushed away thoughts of training, of spears, of kings and ancient murals, seeking a blank slate in his mind.
Minutes bled into what felt like hours. The stillness deepened, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind through snow-laden branches. Then, a subtle shift. Not a sound, not a visual cue, but a presence. It was faint, a gentle flicker in the periphery of his awareness, a warmth against the cold, a tiny ripple in the vast calm he had cultivated.
He honed in on it, carefully, trying not to disturb the delicate sensation. It was small, light, moving with soft, rhythmic thumps. He felt it approach, slowly, tentatively, then pause. It was close now, a bundle of nervous energy, yet radiating a surprising innocence.
Renjiro slowly, cautiously, opened his eyes. There, barely a few feet from him, nestled against a patch of undisturbed snow, sat a white rabbit. Its fur was as pristine as the fresh snowfall, its long ears twitching, and its tiny nose wiggling as it regarded him with large, dark, curious eyes. It seemed utterly unafraid, drawn by his stillness rather than startled by his presence.
A soft smile touched Renjiro's lips. He hadn't expected such a small, gentle manifestation of the "presence" he was learning to sense. It was a tangible success, a real-world confirmation of his burgeoning Observation Haki. The connection felt pure, almost empathetic. He felt its rapid heartbeat, its innocent curiosity, its simple desire for warmth and safety.
The rabbit twitched its nose again, then, with a delicate hop, burrowed slightly deeper into the snow, seemingly content to share the quiet space with the meditating boy. Renjiro closed his eyes once more, a new sense of accomplishment warming him far more than the sun. He had sensed life, pure and simple, and it had responded to his presence. This was just the beginning.
Renjiro couldn't contain it any longer. He snapped out of his meditation, springing to his feet. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, a silent, trembling pillar against the vast white expanse. Then, a primal, joyful shout tore from his throat, echoing through the tranquil forest. "WUUUUHOOOOO!"
He pumped his fists in the air, a wide, unrestrained grin splitting his face. The sheer elation of his progress was overwhelming. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed to the silent trees, his voice cracking with emotion. "After so long of training, month after month, I'm finally able to feel something at the very least." A small, solitary tear, born of pure relief and triumph, escaped the corner of his eye and traced a warm path down his cold cheek.
Now if I continue to get stronger, I won't have to worry about my family and my people, he thought, the tear quickly wiped away by the back of his gloved hand. The vision of a secure future, one where he could truly protect those he cared about, fueled his excitement.
He leaped down from the rock, almost vibrating with renewed energy. He snatched up the wooden polearm he had been toying with earlier, the feel of its smooth shaft a comfort in his hand. With a surge of adrenaline, he began thrusting and slashing through the air, the rudimentary movements fueled by sheer exuberance.
I have time, dedication, and commitment, he thought, each swift movement reinforcing his resolve. I won't let a single moment of this go by.
After a few minutes, the initial surge of excitement began to subside. The adrenaline died down, and his analytical mind, ever pragmatic, kicked back in. Though I could feel a presence, that doesn't just mean I'm a Haki user now. He internally cautioned himself, the earlier euphoria giving way to sober assessment. I could barely call myself that. I only felt that presence due to sheer luck. If I tried again, it would be really hard. He dismissed his earlier thought about reaction time being a perk of Observation Haki, wanting to humble himself down. I'm not even at step one yet, he concluded, knowing the long, arduous path that lay ahead.
Renjiro, still buzzing with the quiet triumph of his Haki breakthrough and the newfound connection to his chosen weapon, gripped his wooden polearm and made his way back towards the familiar warmth of the cabin. As he approached, he spotted Bram and Coal deep in conversation by the porch, their voices a low murmur against the soft snowfall.
"Hey there, little Renjiro! Where did you come from? Didn't your lesson with Drake come to an end?" Coal asked, a jovial grin spreading across his weathered face as he noticed the boy.
"Yeah, but I was just at the forest right near us," Renjiro replied, feigning nonchalance, "just at the entrance, practicing my sword training there." He deliberately omitted any mention of spears or nascent Haki.
Bram chimed in, a fond but firm look on his face. "You could always practice here, but don't go far, alright? And go on inside, I have news to tell you and the rest."
Renjiro nodded obediently and slipped through the cabin door. The scent of woodsmoke and the comforting warmth radiating from the hearth filled the cozy space. He immediately spotted Kaia, busy by the hearth, and offered a polite greeting.
"Hi, Grandma," he said, using the familial term he'd grown accustomed to, though still slightly awkward on his tongue.
Kaia turned, her expression softening into a smile. "Oh, hey there, Renjiro! Why didn't you come for breakfast? It got cold now." Her tone was light, but Renjiro detected the subtle underlying concern.
He managed a small, sheepish chuckle – a chuckle that clearly conveyed, "Oh no, I'm about to get scolded." "I was preoccupied with training, so I forgot to eat," Renjiro offered, trying to sound earnest and slip away from the impending lecture.
But Kaia's gaze sharpened, turning fully towards him. "You know how many times I've told you not to skip any meal?" she stated, her voice rising slightly. Before he could react, she strode over to him and gently, yet firmly, grabbed him by the ear. "Young man, if you want to grow up strong, you're going to have to eat well too! You get the energy for training from the meals you eat, don't you hear me?"
"Ouch! Ouch! I understand! I understand!" Renjiro yelped, wincing theatrically. Thus, Kaia finally let him go, releasing his ear with a soft tut. He rubbed the reddened lobe, a faint smile on his face, and then made his way to his room, eager to rest for a little while until Bram would come in with his "news."
Parents, he thought, flopping onto his futon. Man, I haven't been scolded like that once in my previous life. I was just ignored. A pang of something akin to gratitude stirred within him. Well, I have to appreciate Kaia's caringness. Many won't show that compassion.
As he settled into the quiet of the room, he noticed that Renzo and Yurie were nowhere to be seen. A strange sense of peace washed over him, a profound quietude he realized he couldn't get if they were there, with their boundless energy and constant demands for attention. For a few blissful moments, he was simply Renjiro, alone with his thoughts and the quiet hum of his accelerating potential.