The first light of dawn seeped through the thin shoji screens, casting long, pale shadows across Kenji Watanabe's small room. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth from outside. Kenji stirred under his futon, blinking slowly as he tried to shake off sleep.
Today, like every other day, the thought of his Spirit Gate weighed heavily on his mind. He had been sixteen for nearly a year now, and still… nothing. Not even a spark. No flicker of energy. His War Spirit remained as silent as a stone.
He swung his legs over the futon and sat up, letting out a long sigh. His hands rubbed his face as he silently resolved:
Today, I will try again.The Morning Attempt
Kenji rose and stepped toward the window, looking out over the small garden behind the house. The grass was wet with dew, the branches of the old pine swaying gently. The world outside seemed serene, calm, as if nothing could disturb it.
He closed his eyes and focused inward. Every fiber of his being, every pulse of his blood, every breath he took, he tried to concentrate on his Spirit Gate. He imagined it like a dormant flower buried deep in the soil of his chest, waiting for warmth, waiting for attention.
He clenched his fists. He drew in a deep breath. He visualized energy flowing along his meridians, coiling into the center of his chest. His body tensed, and for a brief moment, he thought he felt something—a soft, almost imperceptible stir.
Then… silence.
Nothing responded. The Spirit Gate remained closed. The warmth he occasionally felt before—the subtle, fiery pulse—was gone. His chest felt empty, hollow, like he had reached into the void and found only shadow.
Kenji opened his eyes, frustration boiling inside him. "Why… why won't it awaken?" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "I've tried everything. Meditation. Breathing. Focus. Nothing."Grandfather's Advice
His grandfather, Hiroshi Watanabe, had already risen and was tending the small bonsai trees on the porch. The old man's movements were slow but precise, each gesture a practiced rhythm. His hair was silver, his hands lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, penetrating.
Kenji stepped onto the porch, shoulders hunched. "Grandfather… I tried again. I still can't feel it… my War Spirit. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Hiroshi studied him silently for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Kenji," he said, voice calm but firm, "you are focusing only on the Spirit Gate. On the energy that may or may not awaken. You forget one thing."
Kenji frowned. "What is that?"
"Your body. Your strength. Your fighting abilities. The Spirit Gate is only part of the path. The other part… the foundation… is your body, your reflexes, your skill. You can have the mightiest War Spirit in the world, but if you cannot use your own hands and feet to fight, that power is meaningless."
Kenji's eyes widened slightly. "You mean… I should focus on physical combat first?"
Hiroshi nodded. "Exactly. Today, we train the body. Strengthen your muscles, your reflexes, your balance. Fight with your hands, your feet, your entire body. Focus on becoming a warrior, not just a cultivator. And in the process… your Spirit Gate may respond. Perhaps not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. But when the time comes, you will be ready to accept it."
Kenji clenched his fists, feeling a surge of determination. "Yes, Grandfather. I understand."The First Drills
Kenji moved to the center of the garden, clearing a small space for training. He removed his sandals, feeling the soft grass beneath his feet. The air was cool, biting, and invigorating.
Hiroshi watched silently, arms crossed, as Kenji began.
First, he warmed up. Stretching his legs, bending his torso, rotating his shoulders. Every movement was precise, deliberate. Hiroshi's eyes scrutinized him, noting subtle flaws in posture, balance, and coordination.
"Relax your shoulders," Hiroshi instructed. "Do not fight your own body. Let it move naturally. A stiff body cannot withstand the flow of energy, nor can it harness a War Spirit when it awakens."
Kenji nodded, adjusting his stance. He practiced basic footwork: advancing, retreating, sidestepping, pivoting. Each movement was slow, measured, but gradually, he increased the speed, the force, the intent.
Then came strikes. Punches. Elbows. Palm strikes. Each blow aimed at an invisible opponent, each strike accompanied by a visualization of intent and focus. He imagined the resistance of an enemy, the recoil of an impact, the precision required to land a decisive hit.
Hours passed. Sweat soaked his white training uniform, sticking it to his back. His muscles burned, trembled, and ached. Yet he continued.Hand-to-Hand Combat Techniques
Hiroshi approached and demonstrated a series of hand-to-hand techniques. Blocks, parries, counterstrikes, joint manipulations. Kenji mirrored each movement, careful to observe every detail.
"Fighting is not about brute strength," Hiroshi explained. "It is about timing, precision, and understanding your opponent's body. A Red-rank War Spirit cannot compensate for poor technique. If your foundation is weak, no power can save you."
Kenji absorbed every word, every motion. He practiced a combination strike: a swift jab to the center, a spinning back kick, a low sweep. He imagined an opponent reacting, defending, and countering. Each sequence flowed into the next, his body beginning to feel fluid, controlled, alive.
Even without the Spirit Gate, he felt a spark of satisfaction. His body moved. His limbs responded. He was learning to fight. He was preparing himself.Grandfather's Encouragement
After what felt like hours, Kenji paused to catch his breath. He fell to one knee, chest heaving. Hiroshi walked over, placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder.
"You see, Kenji?" he said, his voice steady. "You are stronger than you realize. Not because of a Spirit Gate. Not because of a War Spirit. But because you endure. Because you persevere. Your body, your mind… they are weapons already. The Spirit Gate will awaken when it must, but today… today, you have learned to wield yourself. That is the first step."
Kenji lowered his gaze, sweat dripping down his face. "I… I feel something, Grandfather. Not a War Spirit… but… strength. I can feel my body responding. Is that… good?"
Hiroshi nodded. "It is excellent. Every great martial artist starts here. War Spirits amplify what exists; they do not create it from nothing. Build the foundation, and when your Spirit Gate awakens… you will be unstoppable."Training with Hands and Feet
Encouraged, Kenji resumed training with renewed focus. He moved to bare-hand combat exercises. Punches, blocks, parries, and counters repeated endlessly. He focused on balance, precision, and the flow of energy through his muscles.
Next, he incorporated kicks. Low sweeps, high roundhouse kicks, and thrusts. Each movement was deliberate, controlled, and executed with intent. He imagined an opponent's body, predicting reactions, creating openings, and striking.
Hiroshi watched closely, occasionally correcting stances or suggesting adjustments. "Do not rely on force alone. The power of a strike comes from the combination of intent, body movement, and balance. A proper technique can overcome raw strength."
Kenji nodded, absorbing each word. Hours melted into one another as he repeated sequences, building rhythm, speed, and strength. The fatigue in his body was intense, but the clarity in his mind grew with each repetition.Imagining the Spirit Gate
During a brief pause, Kenji closed his eyes. He focused again on his Spirit Gate, but this time he tried a new approach. He imagined his newly honed combat abilities flowing into the center of his chest. His fists, his legs, the energy in his movements—all funneled inward, as if offering a bridge to the dormant War Spirit.
A faint sensation pulsed beneath his skin. Not enough to awaken it, but enough to notice.
There. He felt it. Just a whisper. A heartbeat. Something ancient and alive, waiting.
Kenji's eyes opened, widened in awe. "I… felt it," he whispered.
Hiroshi, observing silently, nodded knowingly. "Good. That is the first real response. Small, faint… but it is there. This is how it begins. You prepare the body, the mind, and the soul. The Spirit Gate will respond when it senses readiness."Pushing Limits
Kenji continued practicing as the sun rose higher. He incorporated spinning strikes, sweeps, and feints. His movements became faster, sharper, more precise. He imagined opponents everywhere, shadows attacking, testing him, forcing him to adapt.
Each strike carried intent. Each block carried weight. Each kick carried power. Even without a War Spirit, he felt alive. Powerful. Focused.
By late morning, his limbs were trembling, sweat dripping from every pore. Yet inside, there was clarity. His muscles, reflexes, and mind had all strengthened. The foundation was forming.Evening Reflection
By evening, Kenji returned home, exhausted but exhilarated. His uniform was soaked in sweat, his muscles sore, yet he walked with a sense of accomplishment.
His grandmother had prepared dinner, and the smell of simmering miso soup and rice filled the small house. Hiroshi sat quietly, observing Kenji with a satisfied gaze.
"You did well today," he said. "Do you feel stronger?"
Kenji nodded. "Yes. Even though my Spirit Gate hasn't awakened… I feel… alive. Ready. I think… maybe this is the first step toward awakening it."
Akiko smiled warmly. "Every day you train, every day you endure, you are preparing yourself. One day, the War Spirit will respond. Until then, build yourself. Become the person worthy of it."
Kenji nodded, chewing his rice slowly. Inside, a new determination took root. He would continue. No matter how long it took. No matter how many failures. No matter the mockery or humiliation.Night Meditation
That night, Kenji lay on his futon, staring at the ceiling once more. Moonlight spilled across the room, painting it in silver and shadow.
He closed his eyes, focusing inward. Not on the War Spirit. Not on awakening. Not on power.
Instead, he focused on himself. His body, his movements, his intent. The memory of his grandfather's words guided him. Every punch, every kick, every step he had taken that day flowed through him like a river of energy.
And somewhere deep within, he felt a faint pulse. Subtle. Weak. But unmistakable.
It is still there.
A Dragon War Spirit. Ancient. Patient. Waiting.
And Kenji Watanabe would not be idle any longer.
He would endure. He would fight. And one day, the world would see what he was capable of.