Laughter echoed through the narrow clay alleys of Shizuhara.
"Faster, Lynx! That old man's got steam coming out of his ears!"
Raiden's voice rang sharp, full of joy and urgency as he flipped over a fence, landing effortlessly on a stack of crates. Behind them, the furious shouts of a shopkeeper grew fainter with every twist and turn.
"You mean had steam. I lost him two alleys ago!" Lynx grinned as he sprinted across uneven rooftops, each step light and precise.
The two boys moved like wind-chased shadows, their bare feet silent on the tiles. They leapt, flipped, and slid through the worn arteries of their quiet mountain town like seasoned performers on a chaotic stage. Shizuhara, nestled in the fog-veiled foothills near Tenmaku, pulsed with life beneath them—oblivious to their little heist.
As they reached the edge of town, they vanished into the dew-drenched forest. Towering trees loomed like sentinels, their canopies muffling the world.
"This way!" Raiden called, veering left.
"No, wait—Raiden?" Lynx blinked. The voice had vanished. The rustling stopped.
Silence.
Lynx stood alone in the dense mist.
He turned in place. Trees surrounded him like a labyrinth, the once-familiar paths strangely warped by fog and silence. The deeper he walked, the heavier the air became. Time felt... off.
He laughed nervously. "Heh... Guess I'm too fast for him. Probably took a wrong turn."
He waited.
No reply.
The forest no longer felt familiar.
"Raiden! Where are you? Stop playing, idiot!"
Still nothing.
Then, through the mist, something appeared.
A tiny wooden stall.
No lanterns. No sign. Just a lone tea shop standing where no building should be.
A woman stood behind it, stirring something in a clay bowl. Her long silver hair flowed like silk, her robe shimmered like moonlight over water. Her eyes met Lynx's before he could speak.
"You are lost. But you've always been, haven't you?"
The mist thickened.
And the world fell silent.
Lynx awoke to the sound of clattering pans.
He sat up sharply, drenched in sweat. Sunlight streaked through the thin curtains of his bedroom. Birds chirped outside. His head throbbed.
A dream?
He stumbled downstairs, still dazed.
Renzou, his stepfather, was slicing vegetables with the calm of a monk and the precision of a swordsman. A gray beard curled around his jaw, and his robes bore the mark of a traveling merchant—worn but proud.
"Morning, fox-tail," Renzou said, not turning. "Sleep well in the woods?"
Lynx blinked. "How did I—?"
"Raiden came to me after sundown. Said you got lost being a fool again. Found you snoozing against a tree like a baby boar. You owe me two bags of rice for the trouble."
Lynx slumped into a seat. His mind was a fog of fragments: the tea shop... the mist... her voice.
"You didn't see anything strange, did you?"
Renzou raised an eyebrow. "Only thing strange is a kid like you forgetting his town's layout. Eat. You've got school."
The Hanagumo Schoolhouse buzzed with life. Wooden benches lined a shaded clearing beneath blooming plum trees. Instructors lectured as students scribbled with bamboo brushes.
Today's topic: Shinmei.
"Shinmei," the instructor said, "is the living essence of all things—the spiritual energy that flows through life, death, and beyond. It fuels Mystic Arts, shapes inherited traits, and feeds the corrupted blight where balance is lost."
Lynx straightened, a flicker of interest igniting within him.
"Only those with disciplined minds and bodies can harness Shinmei. For others, it is poison. It twists, corrodes, consumes."
A ripple of awe and unease spread through the class. Lynx glanced down at his hands.
At midday, Lynx slipped away and met Raiden under a bridge near the riverbank. Sunlight shimmered on the water.
"You remember anything from last night?" Lynx asked, tossing a pebble.
Raiden shrugged. "You vanished. I went to get your dad. Found you passed out like a log. Weird part? You were humming in your sleep."
"You didn't see... anyone?"
Raiden shook his head. "Just trees. Why?"
Lynx didn't answer. Instead, he stood. "I'm skipping class. Let's train."
Raiden smirked. "Thought you'd never ask."
The Golden Cloud estate was a marvel—broad courtyards, polished stone paths, and towering sakura trees.
Tatsuo stood in the yard, staff on his shoulder. Though still young, he carried himself with the weight of a veteran. Sharp eyes. Thick arms. A voice like thunder wrapped in calm.
"You're late," Tatsuo said.
"Blame the river. And school," Lynx muttered.
Training began. Martial drills—fluid movements, redirection, bursts of speed.
Raiden's style: refined and precise, shaped by noble discipline and elemental form. He moved like a blade drawn cleanly from its sheath.
Lynx's style: wild, unpredictable. A rhythm shaped by instinct and survival, not tradition.
Tatsuo struck the ground with his staff. "Again! Flow with the breath, not against it. Martial Arts is not brute force. It's awareness. Sensitivity. Let the Shinmei guide your instincts."
Lynx exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing. Of course he knew Shinmei. He had studied it relentlessly since childhood. While other kids played, he buried himself in scrolls, searching for even a whisper of that power.
He remembered Renzou's bitter words:
"You'll never wield it fully. Not with your blood. Some things are beyond reach."
It had broken something in him.
But every day since, he trained. He studied. He believed.
So when Tatsuo mentioned Shinmei now, Lynx didn't react with surprise—only a clenched jaw hiding the frustration within.
"Yes," Tatsuo continued. "The Way of the Body. The first step toward mastering the deeper arts. Master yourself before you command the world."
A pause.
Then, softly:
"...And avoid the Mystic unless you're prepared to lose yourself."
Later, Lynx ran errands for Renzou—delivering goods, bartering, helping at the market.
Half the town seemed to know him.
"There's that boy again."
"Good heart, but trouble sticks to him."
"Renzou raised him well."
Others, less kind:
"Thief-blood. Should've been shipped off."
He ignored them.
At one stop, he handed off herbs to a kindly woman.
Then came a familiar voice.
"LYNX!"
He froze.
Meiko stormed down the steps, rage radiating off her.
"You idiot! You and Raiden think stealing is a joke? You could've been arrested. Or worse!"
"It was just food..."
"Just food? Ever seen what they do to thieves in Tenmaku?"
She glared, hands on her hips.
"You're lucky I care. Stop being dumb. Stop making me worry."
He looked up. She was angry—but she always cared.
"...Sorry, Meiko."
She punched his shoulder.
"You better be."
His final stop brought him to a secluded alley.
A man stood there, cloaked in a faded black robe.
"Merchant's son," the man said. "You've got sharp eyes. Care to see what real power looks like?"
Lynx narrowed his gaze. "Who are you?"
"Gendo. Just a humble trader."
But the smile chilled him.
That night, Lynx lay in bed, wide awake.
The silence buzzed.
Then—
FLASH
A sip of tea. A glowing mist. A voice.
Tsukihana's eyes locked onto him.
"What do you wish for most in this world, child?"
Lynx hesitated.
A swirl of memories: empty nights, hunger, screams in the dark, the cold hands that stole his parents.
His eyes narrowed. "To destroy it."
She raised a brow. "Bold. But how can you destroy the world... when you're powerless?"
He said nothing. His jaw clenched.
"I see," she whispered, amused. "Then tell me—how far are you willing to go?"
The silence stretched. His fists trembled.
Finally:
"I'll stop at nothing."
The mist swirled around her glowing hand. Her eyes gleamed like starlight.
"Then may your path be clear, little vessel."
The last thing Lynx saw was a dance of petals and flame rising into the night.
End of Chapter 1