Part I: Morning in the Mist
The sun rose slowly over the mountain, casting pale gold through the mist. Kaito stirred beneath a crooked pine, muscles stiff, sword still sheathed beside him. His stomach growled—a reminder that survival wasn't just about demons.
He moved quietly through the underbrush, scanning for water. The twins had mentioned a stream near the base. After twenty minutes of cautious trekking, he heard it: the soft rush of current over stone.
The stream was narrow but clean. He knelt, cupped water into his mouth and then splashed his face. Cold. Sharp. Grounding.
As he stood to remove his robe for a quick bath, a voice called out from upstream.
"You're late to breakfast."
Kaito turned.
A young man stood waist-deep in the water, hair like flame, eyes bright with warmth. His sword rested on a nearby rock. He held a skewer of fish over a small fire pit.
"Name's Rengoku," he said, grinning. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Kaito didn't answer, but nodded.
Rengoku gestured to the stream. "Fish are fast here. You have to move like lightning."
Kaito watched him for a moment, then stepped into the water. The cold bit deep, but he focused. He mimicked Rengoku's stance, studied the current and then struck.
His first attempt failed. The second, too. But the third—he caught one.
Rengoku clapped. "You learn quickly!"
They cleaned the fish, skewered them and roasted them over the fire. Kaito ate slowly, savouring the warmth. Rengoku talked—about training, about the mountain, about the importance of breath and spirit.
Kaito listened.
But his mind was elsewhere.
The point he'd earned still hovered inside him.
Waiting.
Part II: Beyond Breathing
After breakfast, Kaito sat beside the fire, watching the smoke curl into the morning air.
Rengoku stretched, then sat beside him.
"You fight with Thunder Breathing," he said. "But your stance is… different."
Kaito hesitated, then asked, "Are there powers beyond breathing techniques?"
Rengoku raised an eyebrow. "You mean like magic?"
"Not magic," Kaito said carefully. "Just… abilities. Systems. Something structured."
Rengoku considered. "There are rumours. Some slayers develop unique traits—refinements beyond breathing. Not everyone. But a few."
"Like what?"
"One girl could sense demon blood from a distance. Another had a reflex so sharp, she could dodge arrows blindfolded. Some say its training. Others say its fate."
Kaito frowned. "Do people believe in curses? Possession?"
Rengoku laughed. "This era is full of superstition. Some say demons whisper into dreams. Others believe slayers who survive too long become half-demon themselves."
Kaito's grip tightened.
He didn't want to be caught in myth. He wanted clarity. Structure. Logic.
Rengoku leaned forward. "You think differently. That's good. But remember—this world doesn't always give answers. Sometimes, you fight with what you feel, not what you know."
Kaito nodded slowly.
He didn't want to rely on instinct alone. He wanted a system he could understand. A path he could shape.
The point inside him pulsed again.
Still waiting.
Rengoku stood. "I'm heading east. More demons there. You?"
Kaito looked toward the mountain's heart.
"I need to make a choice first."
Rengoku smiled. "Then choose well."
He vanished into the mist.
Kaito remained by the fire.
Thinking.
Part III: Storm-seed Chosen
Kaito closed his eyes.
Inside him, the five seeds hovered.
Storm-seed: Speed, precision, lightning reflexes.
Iron root: Defense, endurance, terrain mastery.
Ghost veil: Stealth, misdirection, shadow movement.
Blood flare: Aggression, damage conversion, berserker mode.
Mind spike: Tactical awareness, predictive combat, sensory mapping.
He weighed each carefully.
Iron root was safe. Ghost veil was clever. Blood flare was powerful. Mind spike was strategic.
But Storm-seed aligned with his instincts. With Thunder Breathing. With the way his body moved even before his mind caught up.
It wasn't just speed.
It was control.
He reached inward.
Touched the seed.
It pulsed—then absorbed the point.
A surge of energy rippled through him. The seed began to grow, branching faintly. One branch flickered into view—locked, but visible. He would need more points to unlock it.
But the path had begun and with it, a memory surfaced.
A training ground. A masked instructor. A lesson in speed—how to strike before thought.
It wasn't full memory.
But it was his.
Kaito opened his eyes.
The mountain waited and now, he had chosen how to climb it.