The sun had barely risen when Shiro was back on the training platform. The air was crisp, and a faint mist clung to the ground, curling around the edges of the arena like restless spirits. Today was different. No Shadow Step, no illusions. Only him, the shadows, and his instincts.
Arashi stood at the edge of the platform, twirling her spear casually. "Good morning, Shadow Prince. Ready to get humiliated?"
Shiro scowled, rubbing his shoulders. "I'm not ready. But I have to be."
Arashi grinned. "That's the spirit. Elder Shinta will see if you can survive against real opponents now. Don't die too fast, okay?"
Shiro didn't respond. His focus was already inward. Shadows flickered faintly around his feet, as if sensing his determination. The darkness of the arena yesterday had left an impression—a taste of power and terror he couldn't forget. Today, he had to master it.
Shinta emerged from the mist at the far end of the platform. His spear was slung casually over his shoulder, but his presence alone sent a shiver down Shiro's spine. Around him, five Shiroi warriors stepped into view, each armed with a unique weapon: twin short swords, a long spear, a chain sickle, and two with throwing daggers.
"Shiro Kage," Shinta said, his voice calm but carrying authority, "today you face multiple opponents. Use no Shadow Step. Rely only on control, perception, and your command of shadows. You will strike, evade, and survive. The moment you hesitate, you will be punished. Do you understand?"
Shiro swallowed hard. "Yes, Elder Shinta."
Shinta nodded and lifted a hand.
"Begin."
The warriors lunged.
Shiro froze for a heartbeat. Then instinct took over. His shadows stretched and curled along the stone, moving ahead of him. A dagger zipped past his shoulder; the shadow beneath his feet shifted, and he rolled sideways, barely avoiding it.
A chain sickle whirled toward him. He leaped, letting the shadows guide his body, twisting midair, and landed behind one of the spear-wielding warriors. Without thinking, he swung a kick. The man staggered, surprised, though not injured seriously.
Shiro's heart pounded. This is nothing like yesterday. They're faster, smarter.
Another warrior came at him from the flank with twin swords. Shiro vanished into the shadows—not a full teleport, but a subtle blending, a partial melding of his form into darkness. He reappeared behind the swordsman, slamming a fist into the man's chest.
"Not bad," Arashi said from the sidelines. "He's actually keeping up!"
Shiro's breath came in rapid bursts. His arms burned from repeated strikes. His mind raced, calculating angles, predicting movement, sensing the faint vibrations of the warriors' footsteps, even without seeing them fully.
One of the dagger-wielders circled him, aiming to flank. Shadows coiled beneath Shiro like serpents. He focused, letting fear sharpen his senses rather than paralyze him.
Then he moved.
—Shadow Step unavailable—
—Use Shadow Blend?—
Yes.
He melted into the darkness. The dagger-wielder lunged, but his hands passed through empty air. Shiro reappeared behind him, grabbing the dagger and twisting it from his opponent's grip. The man growled, lunging again, but Shiro blocked with a sharp elbow.
Sweat poured down his face. His muscles burned. But for the first time, he felt a rhythm—a flow. Shadow Gi wasn't just power. It was anticipation. It was reaction. It was fear turned into focus.
Arashi's voice rang out: "Good! Keep moving! Don't give them a chance!"
---
The fight escalated. Five against one. Shiro moved with a speed he didn't think possible, dodging, countering, blending into darkness, striking with precision. Each move left him more exhausted, but also sharper, more aware.
He felt his body responding in ways he didn't control. Shadow Gi pulsed beneath him, anticipating, reacting, warning. A dagger whistled past his ear; his shadow stretched, intercepting the motion, and the dagger clattered to the stone floor.
Shiro ducked under a spear swing, rolled, and slashed with a kick, sending the chain sickle flying from its wielder. He didn't pause. He couldn't.
The final warrior lunged with twin swords. Shiro felt the familiar heat of fear—this is dangerous. You could die. He let it fuel him. His shadow stretched, wrapping around the swordsman's feet, tangling him momentarily. He kicked upward, striking the warrior's chest, sending him stumbling back.
Five opponents, zero falls.
Breath ragged, muscles trembling, Shiro froze. The arena was silent.
Shinta's voice cut through the mist. "Enough."
---
The warriors bowed and stepped back. Shiro's legs nearly gave out. He sank to his knees, gasping for breath. Shadows coiled around his ankles like loyal hounds, responsive to his heartbeat.
Shinta approached, eyes scanning Shiro from head to toe. "You are stronger than I anticipated," he said slowly. "But this is only the beginning. Control is your priority. Shadows obey the mind, yes—but they can also betray the reckless. Today, you relied on instinct. Tomorrow, you must refine it. Precision over instinct. Discipline over fear."
Shiro nodded, still catching his breath. "Yes, Elder Shinta."
Arashi clapped her hands, smiling brightly. "Look at you! Not dead! Already learning to move in darkness! I'm impressed, Shadow Prince."
Shiro gave her a weak glare. "Stop calling me that."
Arashi laughed. "Fine. But you're earning it. Keep this up, and maybe by the time Metsudo Meiji comes hunting, you won't look like a child running scared."
Shiro's chest tightened at the mention of Metsudo. The thought of the current Lord of Ninjas, the one responsible for his clan's fall, waiting somewhere, scheming, hunting… it burned in him. But instead of fear, it fueled him.
He wouldn't run. Not anymore.
---
That evening, Shiro sat on a high platform overlooking the Shiroi Reserve. The sun had set, leaving the valley bathed in pale moonlight. Shadows stretched across the ground, coiling and twisting. Shiro focused on them, feeling each tendril respond to his heartbeat.
Arashi appeared beside him silently, leaning on her spear. "You're quiet."
Shiro shook his head. "Just… thinking."
"About?" she asked.
"My clan. Renshiro. Metsudo. Everything that happened… everything that's coming."
Arashi nodded, surprisingly serious. "Yeah. I know the feeling. The world outside here is brutal. If you're going to survive it, you have to be stronger than anyone else. Faster. Smarter. Darker."
Shiro looked at the shadows beneath his feet. They flickered in response, alive. "I will."
Arashi smiled faintly. "Good. That's all that matters right now."
A distant rumble interrupted the quiet. Shiro stiffened. The valley below was calm, but he had learned to sense more than what he could see. His heartbeat accelerated.
"Feel that?" Arashi asked.
Shiro nodded slowly. "Something… powerful."
A gust of wind carried the faint smell of smoke and ozone. Explosion Gi.
"Meiji," Arashi said quietly, eyes narrowing. "He knows you're alive. And he's already sending scouts. You can feel it in the air."
Shiro's chest tightened. Fear, anticipation, and determination surged together.
"I won't let him catch me unprepared," Shiro whispered.
Arashi smirked. "Good. Because if you're going to become the Lord of Ninjas, you'll need more than speed and Shadow Gi. You'll need strategy, allies, and guts the size of mountains."
Shiro's fists clenched. "I'll become stronger. I'll master my clan's techniques. I'll survive."
Arashi's braid swayed in the moonlight. "And one day, you'll make Metsudo Meiji regret the day he thought he could destroy the Kage forever."
Shiro stared at the horizon, shadows pooling beneath him, whispering. He could feel the world beginning to shift around him—the path to power, vengeance, and survival stretching endlessly forward.
I am Shiro Kage.
I will rise.
And I will become the Lord of Ninjas.
The night deepened. Shadows danced across the Shiroi Reserve, alive with potential. Shiro closed his eyes, letting them wrap around him, feeling them guide his heartbeat, his instincts, his will.
The journey had only just begun.