The following morning, Shiro awoke with his body screaming in protest. Every muscle ached, every joint groaned—but his mind was sharp, and that was what mattered. Shadows seemed to cling to him now, responding instantly to his heartbeat. Yesterday's trial had changed him, and even in the light of day, he could feel the remnants of Shadow Gi pulsing beneath his skin.
Arashi met him at the entrance to the training courtyard, spear balanced casually across her shoulders. "Good morning, Shadow Prince. You survived yesterday, so congratulations. But today… we raise the stakes."
Shiro scowled. "Raising the stakes? I can barely move as it is."
Arashi smirked. "Then it's perfect. Pain is part of the lesson. Come on."
---
They walked through the central village toward a building Shiro had never seen before. It was circular, made of polished steel and glass-like crystal panels, humming faintly with energy. The air around it shimmered, making it look as though it existed between two realities.
"This," Arashi said, gesturing dramatically, "is the Shiroi Workshop. Here, we create weapons that interact with Gi. And today, you're going to see why our clan is feared across Ninshu."
Shiro stared. The building looked alive. Not just alive—it breathed. Shadows seemed to crawl along the walls, swirling with the faintest pulse of energy.
Arashi led him inside. The interior was vast. Metal tables stretched for dozens of meters, covered in weapons at various stages of construction. Spears radiated energy, blades shimmered faintly, and strange devices hummed, waiting.
At the center, an older Shiroi warrior stood, examining a long blade embedded with crystals that emitted a soft, pulsing light. His hair was silver, tied neatly, eyes sharp as a hawk.
"Ah," Arashi said, introducing him, "this is Master Takumi. He's in charge of experimental weapons and Gi integration. Master Shinta wanted you to see him."
Shiro bowed cautiously. "It's an honor, Master Takumi."
The elder smiled faintly. "Likewise, young Shadow. I've heard of your exploits. Surviving in total darkness against multiple warriors is… impressive."
Shiro blinked. "You've… heard of me?"
Takumi chuckled. "Shinta has eyes everywhere. But that is not important. What matters is how quickly you adapt. Today, you will test your control against a Shiroi weapon."
Shiro frowned. "A weapon?"
Takumi nodded. "This." He held up a short blade that gleamed like liquid silver. "It is a Shadow Fang—a blade infused with Weapon Gi and reactive shadows. It anticipates your movement to a degree, synchronizing with the wielder's energy. But if the wielder hesitates, it resists you. Misuse it… and it will cut you."
Shiro's stomach tightened. A weapon that could betray him if he faltered? That sounded more dangerous than facing five Shiroi warriors in the dark.
Arashi grinned. "Sounds fun, doesn't it? Your first reactive weapon. Consider it a lesson in trust."
Shiro's jaw clenched. "Let's get it over with."
---
Takumi handed him the blade. The moment Shiro gripped it, the shadows around his hands writhed, intertwining with the metal. A faint hum pulsed from the weapon, like it was alive, like it could feel his heartbeat.
Shiro tested a swing. The blade moved effortlessly, almost extending his Shadow Gi. But when he paused, hesitation lingered—and the weapon resisted, pulling slightly against him. A small cut grazed his forearm.
"Control it," Takumi said calmly. "The weapon obeys intent. Hesitation is weakness. Shadow Gi feeds on fear—but this blade senses doubt."
Shiro nodded, sweat dripping down his brow. He clenched the blade tighter, closed his eyes, and focused on one thought: movement.
The shadows responded. The weapon obeyed.
Strike after strike, he felt the synergy building. Not just his Shadow Gi—but the shadows of the blade, the room, even the faint aura of Takumi nearby—all moving together.
Arashi watched, arms crossed, nodding. "Not bad. Not bad at all. You're learning faster than I expected."
Shiro's chest burned. Every movement was exhausting, but exhilarating. He could feel his instincts sharpening, a bond forming between him and the weapon. He could feel the shadows bending around him, listening.
---
Hours passed. Shiro continued to train, sweat soaking his clothes, body trembling with fatigue. But every strike was more precise, every movement more deliberate. Shadows no longer just responded—they anticipated. He was beginning to feel… unstoppable.
Then Takumi spoke, his voice quiet but sharp. "Enough for today. Rest. But remember this—the Lord of Ninjas, Metsudo Meiji, will not ignore your awakening. He senses it. He watches. You are no longer a boy hiding in the shadows. You are now a target."
Shiro's stomach tightened. "Metsudo… he knows?"
Takumi nodded. "He always knows. And he will not tolerate anyone threatening his power. Not even a Kage heir."
Shiro's hands clenched around the blade. Fear surged—but beneath it, determination. He would survive. He would become stronger. He would not fall again.
---
Later that evening, Shiro returned to the training platform. Shadows stretched long in the moonlight, curling around the edges of the stone as if waiting for him. Arashi joined him, her spear glinting faintly.
"Still alive?" she teased.
Shiro gave a weak smile. "Barely."
She laughed. "Good. You should be. Pain builds strength. Fear builds instinct. And you… you're starting to become a shadow in the dark."
Shiro's eyes narrowed. "I need to train faster. I need to be ready… before Metsudo moves."
Arashi's smile faded slightly. "You're impatient. Good. But don't let it cloud your judgment. Metsudo is… clever. And dangerous. If he wants you dead, he won't just send pawns—he'll send predators."
Shiro clenched his fists. "I'll be ready."
---
As the night deepened, Shiro noticed something strange. A faint ripple in the shadows—a subtle distortion, almost imperceptible. His instincts screamed at him. Something moved differently, something foreign.
Before he could react, a shadow shot out from the darkness—a figure cloaked in black and red, moving with deadly precision.
Shiro's pulse jumped. Metsudo's scouts?
He drew his Shadow Fang instinctively. Shadows coiled around him, stretching toward the figure, sensing its motion. The figure stopped, circling, eyes glowing faintly beneath its hood.
"Shiro Kage," a voice hissed. Deep, smooth, and cold. "So… the last Kage heir is alive."
Shiro's heart raced. He didn't recognize the voice—but he didn't need to. It radiated power. Danger. Death.
"Who are you?" Shiro demanded.
The figure chuckled. "I am an observer… for now. But Metsudo will soon decide if you live or die. And trust me… he does not tolerate threats."
Before Shiro could react, the figure melted into shadows, disappearing like smoke. The ripple lingered for a heartbeat, then vanished.
Shiro's hands trembled, gripping the Shadow Fang tightly. Fear surged—but beneath it, determination burned brighter.
"I will not run," he whispered. "I will not hide. I will rise."
Arashi stepped beside him, silent until now. "He's right. You're no longer a child hiding in shadows. You're becoming something else… something dangerous. Just like the Kage were meant to be."
Shiro nodded, staring into the horizon. Somewhere out there, Metsudo Meiji was aware. Somewhere, he was watching, plotting, waiting.
And somewhere, his path to power was beginning.
Shadows curled around Shiro, alive and responsive. He could feel them whispering, urging him forward. Survival was no longer enough. He needed strength, skill, allies… and vengeance.
The night was quiet, but the world beyond the Shiroi Reserve was already moving.
Shiro Kage has awakened. And Metsudo Meiji will not ignore him.
The game of shadows had truly begun.