Shiro woke before dawn. The village was quiet, almost unnaturally so. The pale mist that hovered over the Shiroi Reserve muffled every sound. Even the wind seemed hesitant, as though waiting for something to happen.
He sat on the edge of his sleeping mat, rubbing his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached—from yesterday's climbing, Shadow Step, and the rush of adrenaline—but there was no time to rest. Not today. Today, Elder Shinta would begin the first stage of Shadow Gi mastery: complete darkness training.
Arashi was already standing outside, leaning casually against the wall, spear in hand. Her braid swayed lightly as she smiled.
"Up already?" she teased. "Sleep well?"
Shiro shook his head. "No. Can't. I keep… thinking about Renshiro."
Arashi's expression softened for a moment. "He's alive. Trust him. Now focus on surviving today."
Shiro swallowed hard and followed her. They walked in silence through the misty village toward the central training courtyard. By the time they arrived, Elder Shinta was waiting, spear across his shoulders, eyes scanning Shiro like a predator studying prey.
"Good," Shinta said, voice calm but firm. "You are on time. That is the first rule of survival—punctuality. Do not disappoint the shadows."
Shiro swallowed, nervously gripping the pouch at his waist.
Shinta gestured to a platform behind the main hall. The entire area was enclosed by tall walls that blocked the weak light of dawn. "This is your arena," he said. "No torches. No markers. No guidance. Only shadows, your senses, and your instincts."
Shiro looked at the blackened arena. It seemed to drink in the early light, swallowing it completely. His stomach tightened.
"Alone?" he whispered.
"Alone," Shinta confirmed. "The shadows do not lie. You will either move with them or be consumed by them."
Arashi stepped forward, placing her hand briefly on Shiro's shoulder. "Good luck, Shadow Prince. Don't die in the first five minutes, okay?"
Shiro's heart jumped at the nickname. He didn't like it. But he nodded anyway.
He stepped into the darkness.
---
The arena was absolute. Light refused to enter. The air was thick and heavy, damp with the scent of moss and stone. Shiro's eyes adjusted to nothing. Every muscle in his body tensed. Every nerve screamed.
He tried to summon Shadow Gi, but nothing happened. Panic clawed at him. I can't… I can't see… I'll fall… I'll die…
The voice of Elder Shinta echoed in his memory: Shadow Gi feeds on fear, instinct, and willpower.
He inhaled deeply. Focus. Feel. Move.
The faint hum of energy beneath his feet—the pulse of Shadow Gi—stirred. Tiny, almost imperceptible. He concentrated on it, letting the darkness surround him completely.
—Shadow Step available—
—Activate?—
"Yes."
Shiro's body dissolved into black mist. His surroundings disappeared. Then… he was somewhere else.
A wooden training dummy loomed before him. He had no idea how far it was. He could only feel it—a presence, a weight. The shadows guided him.
He reappeared beside it, landing lightly.
For a moment, he couldn't believe he had done it. Then the whispers in the darkness began.
Move. Strike. Survive.
Shiro swallowed. The whispers weren't malicious—they were alive. Responsive. Encouraging in their own twisted way.
A sudden sharp clap rang in the darkness. Shiro spun around instinctively. Two figures emerged from the shadows—Shiroi trainees, armed with swords and spears, cloaked in dark training robes to blend into the arena.
*Ahemm, sorry, taking a break here...*
"You move in silence," one said, voice calm. "But you do not see. That is your first weakness."
Shiro's breath hitched. He didn't see them. He only felt their presence—the faint ripple of energy through the air. He tried Shadow Step again, and the world blurred.
He reappeared behind the nearest attacker and struck, his hands connecting with the trainee's shoulder. Not a kill, just enough to knock them off balance.
The other trainee lunged. Shiro vanished, reappearing above the strike, narrowly dodging a spear aimed at his chest.
Faster. Flow. Control.
The whispers guided him. Every heartbeat, every pulse, every subtle change in air pressure became a signal. His movements grew sharper, smoother, instinctive.
After several minutes—or maybe hours; he had no sense of time—the attacks slowed. The trainees stepped back, raising their hands.
"Enough," a voice said. Shinta's voice.
Shiro gasped, sweat dripping down his face. His chest burned, his legs trembled, but he was alive. He had survived the first stage of total darkness.
Shinta emerged from the shadows himself, calm as ever. "You moved well," he said. "But your reliance on Shadow Step is excessive. Do not forget—your power is an extension of your mind, not a crutch."
Shiro nodded, exhausted. "Yes… Elder Shinta."
Arashi appeared beside him, leaning against the wall, smirking. "Not bad. You didn't die. That's step one of becoming a Kage."
Shiro could only manage a weak smile.
Shinta's gaze swept over him, assessing. "Tomorrow, we escalate. You will face multiple opponents, without using Shadow Step. You will strike, defend, and vanish using nothing but instinct and your command of shadows."
Shiro's stomach knotted. "Multiple… opponents? At once?"
Shinta's eyes didn't waver. "Yes. You will learn control by necessity. Shadows obey only those who survive their own fear."
Shiro clenched his fists. The thought terrified him—but excitement stirred beneath the fear. Every fiber of his being screamed that this was the only way to grow.
Arashi leaned closer, whispering, "Don't worry. You won't be alone forever. I'll spar with you after. But for now, survive the Elder."
Shiro nodded. "I… I'll try."
Arashi smiled, faint but genuine. "Good. That's the first step."
---
Later, as the sun climbed, Shiro sat on the edge of the training platform. His muscles ached, sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his shadow lingered unnaturally long in the pale light. He wasn't tired in the usual sense; his body felt alive, his mind sharp, but every nerve burned.
He remembered the ridge, Renshiro fighting the Meiji and Akuma elites, the smoke, the explosions.
And he remembered Elder Shinta's words: If you survive… you will stand above all ninja.
A strange determination settled in his chest. He wasn't just surviving for himself. He was surviving for the Kage Clan. For Renshiro. For the shadow of his parents.
The shadows around him pulsed faintly, responsive. Shiro closed his eyes and let them wrap around him like a second skin.
I will master you, he whispered. I will rise.
The sun rose fully, bathing the Shiroi Reserve in light. But Shiro barely noticed. His world had already shifted into darkness—one he was learning to command.
And far beyond the valley, across mountains and rivers, the echoes of explosions carried northward.
Metsudo Meiji had already sensed the awakening.
Somewhere, the Lord of Ninjas smiled.
The game begins, he thought.