Of course. Here is the English translation of this pivotal chapter, capturing the intense training and the breakthrough moment.
---
The sun rose slowly, as if unsure whether it should illuminate this world. Dim rays broke through the fog, bathing the house's yard in a soft gold.
Sai stood in the middle of the yard, barefoot, eyes closed. The air was cold, and every drop of dew under his feet felt like a pinprick—but Grandpa had said it was necessary.
To feel. To not escape into his thoughts.
"Breathe," Grandpa's voice was calm, but held strength. "Inhale—attention, exhale—control. Don't try to force the Echo to obey. It is not your slave. It is a part of you."
Sai slowly exhaled.
He felt a faint trembling in his chest, somewhere under his ribs—as if a small animal lived inside him, curled into a ball.
When he concentrated, the animal stirred. Sometimes it was just a gentle warmth. Sometimes—a cold, like the breath of death.
"Imagine the fear," Grandpa continued. "Don't run. Just look at it."
"I… don't want to see it."
"And I didn't ask what you want," Grandpa smirked. "Power is not a comfort, but a mirror."
Sai gritted his teeth.
Something stirred in his chest—like a memory, but alive. Before his mind's eye flashed the house, smoke, flames, his sister's scream…
He opened his eyes—and saw the air around him thicken. Shadows began to gather into forms, like that night.
"Breathe evenly!" said Grandpa. "Don't suppress it! Direct it!"
"I'm trying!.."
Outlines flickered around him—silhouettes, familiar and alien.
One of them, resembling Sai himself, stirred, as if wanting to touch his hand.
And suddenly—a discharge. A flash.
The air seemed to rupture, and a wave of darkness shot from Sai, striking the house wall. The stone cracked.
Sai fell to his knees, gasping for air.
"I didn't… mean to!.."
"And that's the whole problem," Grandpa said calmly. "You didn't mean to."
He came closer, helped Sai up. "Will is not about wanting, boy. It is about choice."
Sai looked at the crack in the wall.
He was afraid. Not for himself—but that he might destroy something again.
"You didn't destroy," said Grandpa, noticing his gaze. "You released. Power suppressed by fear seeks an outlet. If you don't direct it—it will explode."
"I just… don't want to hurt anyone," whispered Sai.
Grandpa sighed. "And by that, you are already hurting yourself."
He put a hand on Sai's shoulder. "Again."
---
They trained until noon.
Every attempt ended in pain, exhaustion, or failure. But between them—there were brief moments… of near control.
When the darkness responded not with anger, but with calm.
"Like that," Grandpa would say. "Don't fight it. Listen. Feel the boundary between fear and will. Where they meet—that is the Echo."
Sai closed his eyes, and for the first time felt that the darkness inside him wasn't just pain. There was something… warm in it. As if it truly wasn't a monster, but a part of his soul.
"Grandpa…" he exhaled. "I think I'm starting to… understand."
"Excellent," Grandpa smirked. "Since you understand—go rest."
---
The house greeted them with the smell of roasted herbs and the quiet crackle of the stove. Sai collapsed into a chair, feeling his muscles ache in places he never knew existed.
Grandpa poured them both a mug of hot herbal brew and sat opposite.
For a while, they were silent.
Then Sai asked quietly:
"Grandpa… why… did you come to the orphanage then?"
The old man raised an eyebrow slightly. "Because you were there."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Sai frowned. "But… there were others. Why not them? Why me?"
Grandpa was silent for a moment. Then he laughed quietly.
"You're strange, Sai. Others would ask: 'Why me?', but you ask: 'Why not them?'."
He looked into his mug, as if searching for an answer in its dark depth.
"You know, I've lived too long. Seen generations be born and disappear. Seen people build and destroy, kill and forgive. And in time, you understand… everything repeats."
"Repeats?"
"Yes. Fear. Greed. Blindness. The same mistakes, just in new faces."
Sai listened, not taking his eyes off him.
"And so, when I came to the orphanage, I saw the children," Grandpa continued. "Some were laughing, others fighting, others crying. But only one sat in the corner, staring into nothing… and expecting nothing."
"You."
Sai looked away. "I just… didn't see the point."
"And I—did."
He put the mug on the table and added quietly:
"I don't have much time left, Sai. Maybe a year. Maybe less."
"What?.." Sai lifted his head. "What are you saying?.."
Grandpa smiled, but his eyes held something Sai hadn't seen before—a deep, ancient, almost calm fatigue.
"My body isn't what it used to be. My power sustains me, but not forever. I wanted… to leave something behind."
"You don't think I can… replace you?.."
"No," Grandpa replied softly. "No one can replace anyone. But if I go, and you retain even a part of what I've taught you—then my life wasn't in vain."
Sai fell silent. His throat felt tight.
He didn't know what to say.
All words seemed too weak.
"Grandpa…"
"Hm?"
"What if I fail?"
Grandpa smirked. "Then you get up. And try again. That's how those who choose life, not shadow, live."
Sai lowered his head, but his lips trembled into a faint smile.
"Sounds like something you've said before."
"Of course," Grandpa laughed. "Wisdom is repetition until you're sick of it."
---
They sat for a long time, listening to the wind outside and the quiet crackle of the fire.
And in that moment, Sai understood—for the first time, he didn't feel the emptiness.
The pain was there. The fear was there.
But somewhere deep beneath them, something else had been born.
Calm.
And hope.
He looked at Grandpa, and for the first time saw in him not just a madman.
But a man who had also been afraid once.
But chose not to hide.
---
The silence in the house was heavy, as if even the air was tired of their conversation.
Sai sat, staring at the flame. Grandpa's words wouldn't leave his head: 'Maybe a year. Maybe less.'
There was a strange feeling in his chest—a mix of gratitude and pain.
He didn't know how to react. He just… didn't want this day to end.
But Grandpa stood up, stretched, and that spark flashed in his eyes again—the mad, cheerful, and dangerous one.
"What, drowning in sorrow again, my philosopher?"
"I'm just thinking."
"That's your first mistake."
Sai frowned: "What?"
Grandpa smiled. "A thinker is not a warrior. Remember what I told you—awareness, control, intent. And now," he stood, slapping his knee, "let's see what you've learned."
"Now?.." Sai froze. "You said to rest!"
"Rest is for those already dead," Grandpa cut him off. "Up!"
---
They went out into the yard.
The night was cool, the moon stood high, spilling silver onto the grass. Everything breathed calm—but Sai knew that calm was about to vanish.
"Stand in the center," said Grandpa.
Sai obeyed, feeling his heart beat faster.
"We will fight."
"What?!"
"Don't be a coward, boy. I won't kill you. Although, if you relax—it will hurt."
Sai took a step back, but Grandpa just grinned.
"Don't move. Feel it. The Echo is not a weapon, Sai. It is your reflection. If you defend yourself, it will defend you."
"I'm not ready!"
"Let's find out."
Grandpa vanished.
Simply—dissolved into the air.
Sai didn't even have time to exhale before something whistled beside him. He instinctively stepped aside—and felt a shockwave graze his shoulder. The air shuddered.
"Grandpa!.."
"Don't call me Grandpa when I'm hitting you!" a voice came from behind. "Concentrate!"
Sai turned—and in that instant, Grandpa was already before him.
A movement—like a flash of lightning. A hand, filled with power, swung, and Sai didn't even understand where it came from.
And then—it happened.
A shadow grew between them. Dense, deep, like a moonless night.
Grandpa's strike stopped, as if hitting a wall of air. From the collision, a ripple went through the ground, the grass lay flat.
Sai stood, staring dumbfounded before him.
Before him—the Echo.
It had risen from his own shadow, as if flowing from under his feet. Its eyes shone with a soft gray light.
Grandpa took a step back and laughed. "Hah! There it is! Instinct!"
"It… by itself…" whispered Sai. "I didn't—"
"It feels you!" Grandpa raised his hand. "You didn't summon it, it chose you. This is—a connection, not submission. Don't lose concentration, keep your breath even!"
Sai stood, watching as the Echo slowly turned its head, tracking Grandpa's every movement.
Its form pulsed, as if breathing. Sai felt its every movement—as if he himself were moving.
"Good," said Grandpa, clenching his fist. "Let's see how strong it is!"
He stepped forward—and space seemed to burst. Sai felt pressure, as if the sky had fallen. Grandpa struck not at his body, but at the energy itself—the air exploded with a hum.
The Echo raised its hand—and struck back.
Two waves collided, the air flared with gray sparks. Sai was thrown back, barely keeping his feet.
Grandpa stood amid a dusty whirlwind and laughed. "Yes! Now that's more like a fight!"
Sai breathed heavily. His heart beat in time with the Echo's pulsation.
"It… it's protecting me!"
"Not 'it'! You!" Grandpa barked. "It's just the part of you that has finally understood you've decided to live!"
Sai clenched his fists. The Echo shuddered, as if mirroring his movement.
He raised his hand—and the shadow behind him raised its own.
In that moment, Sai felt a strange calm. No fear, no pain—only awareness.
"Like that," Grandpa said, approaching. "Breathe. Don't fight it. Give it form."
Sai concentrated.
The Echo slowly changed—its contours became sharper, depth appeared in its eyes. It took a stance similar to Sai's combat pose.
"Good… very good," Grandpa whispered.
And then—he vanished.
Sai didn't even have time to blink before Grandpa was behind him, a strike aimed straight for the base of his neck.
The Echo reacted instantly.
Its smoky hand flared up, deflecting the blow with a loud clang, as if two blades had met.
Sai was thrown back, but he held his ground. The Echo didn't disappear—on the contrary, it now moved on its own, protecting him without commands.
"Perfect," Grandpa retreated. "Now you have truly begun the path."
He slowly lowered his hand. The power emanating from him dissipated.
The air began to breathe again.
The Echo turned to Sai. Its white eyes held no emotion, but they reflected the torch's flame. It inclined its head, as if in acknowledgment.
And then—slowly dissolved, returning to his shadow.
Sai stood, breathing in shock.
"It… protected me. By itself."
"Of course," Grandpa nodded. "Because for the first time in your life, you didn't want to die."
He came closer, put a hand on his shoulder.
"This is why I chose you, Sai. Not because you are strong. Because you are weak."
"What?.."
"Only one who knows what fear is can understand what strength means."
Grandpa smirked.
"And now go. Sleep. Real training begins tomorrow. And if you survive, maybe I can finally rest."
Sai laughed quietly, wiping sweat from his brow.
"You really are crazy."
"Of course. But isn't it madness that makes us alive?"
They both looked at the sky—the moon stood directly above them.
And somewhere deep inside, Sai felt: the Echo was still there.
Calm. Watchful.
Waiting.