Akira woke on the dojo's wide wooden floor, staring up at exposed ceiling beams darkened by age and smoke.
His body screamed at him—shoulders, ribs, spine—all the familiar places where pain meant survival.
Good.That meant he wasn't dead.
Ito crouched beside him, one knee down, eyepatch catching the light."Can you sense it yet?"
Akira groaned and scratched the back of his head. "Sense what?"
Ito flicked his wrist dismissively. "Tao. I jump-started your nervous system with it." He smiled like a man describing a neat party trick. "Bit dangerous. But you're breathing, so I'll mark it as a success."
Akira blinked.Once.Twice.
"Oh," he said slowly. "Yeah. I can see it."
Ito's grin spread instantly. "Perfect. Look at mine—those gates are pretty cool, right?"
A massive Shinto gate loomed behind Ito, ink-black Tao flowing through its carvings like veins.
Akira squinted. "…I guess."
Then his expression shifted. "So… where exactly was I just now?"
Ito's grin faltered. His eyes slid upward as if replaying something unpleasant."Right. Probably should've explained that before blasting your soul open."
He straightened, hands clasped behind his back."Tao reflects who you are. Your will. Your personality. Your essence." He glanced over his shoulder. "What you saw was your manifestation—your True Realm. That space in your mind is where all your techniques are born."
Akira sat up as Ito turned away mid-sentence.
"Now get up," Ito said. "I need to show you something."
Akira yawned and pushed himself to his feet. Ito rose as well, cracking his knuckles.
"Alright," Ito said, clapping once. "Important part. Tao has five basic applications."
He raised a finger.
"Sword. Reinforces your physical attributes."
Another finger.
"Spear. Reinforces objects."
"Bow. Projects Tao outward."
"Shield. Hardens your body."
He raised the last finger, eyes sharp.
"And Armor. You project Tao outward to disrupt other people's techniques."
Ito paused, then tilted his head."Oh—right. One more thing."
He tapped his temple."There's a difference between output and techniques."
Akira frowned. "Aren't those the same thing?"
Ito smirked. "Not even close."
Golden Tao flowed into Ito's finger. He slammed it into the dojo floor.
Crack.
The wood shattered outward, leaving a shallow crater.
"That's output," Ito said. "You're just placing Tao somewhere."
Then his Tao sharpened—compressed, refined, almost bladed.
He struck again.
BOOM.
The floor collapsed inward, a far deeper crater ripping through reinforced planks.
"That," Ito said calmly, "is a technique."
Akira stared, eyes wide.
"Techniques are stronger. More creative. More dangerous." Ito shrugged. "But output's easier. Way easier."
He stepped back and rolled his shoulders."Anyway. Let's start."
Akira barely had time to react before a fist slammed square into his forehead.
His vision exploded white as he crashed onto his back.
Ito looked down at him, utterly unfazed."The best way to learn Tao," he said evenly, "is through real experience."
Akira groaned, staring at the ceiling again—this time with a crooked grin.
"…You're insane."
Ito smiled.