Month: Late May
Year: Taishō 13
Age: Akira — 7
Location: Azabu District (clinic, Kanroji residence, dawn clearing)
Combat Strength: ★★★☆☆ → ★★★½☆☆
(Strength, stamina, endurance, agility—balanced growth confirmed)
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Mitsuri finally asked an adult.
It happened over breakfast.
She had already eaten two bowls of rice, grilled fish, miso soup, and pickled vegetables. She was halfway through a third bowl when her mother paused, chopsticks hovering midair.
"…Mitsuri," she said gently, "are you still hungry?"
Mitsuri blinked. "Yes?"
Her mother studied her—no fever, no sluggishness, no mess. Just bright eyes and relaxed posture.
"You've been eating a lot lately," she said carefully. "And you don't seem tired at all."
Mitsuri tilted her head. "Is that bad?"
"No," her mother replied slowly. "Just… unusual."
Mitsuri hesitated, then spoke the thought that had been bothering her.
"I never get sore," she said. "Even when I help all day. And when I breathe slowly, I feel better instead of sleepy."
Her mother went quiet.
She reached out and placed a hand on Mitsuri's shoulder.
"…Some people are born with bodies that work differently," she said after a moment. "Stronger. More resilient."
Mitsuri's eyes widened. "Really?"
Her mother smiled softly. "But that also means you should listen carefully to your body. Even strong things can break if they don't understand themselves."
Mitsuri nodded seriously.
"I'll be careful," she promised.
But inside, curiosity bloomed even more.
---
That same morning, Azabu felt heavier.
Humidity rose. The air thickened.
Akira noticed immediately.
> "Environmental stress detected. Recommend monitoring Total Concentration output."
He nodded and adjusted.
He was at the clinic when the first patient collapsed—a middle-aged man with fever and dizziness. Panic rippled through the room.
Akira moved.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Steady.
He supported the man's weight, breath smooth, muscles engaging naturally.
No shaking.
No strain.
> "Muscle output efficiency increased. Strength index improved."
The doctor barked instructions. Akira followed without hesitation.
When the man coughed violently, Akira knelt beside him.
"Look at me," he said calmly. "Breathe with me."
In.
Out.
Even under pressure, Akira's breath didn't break.
> "Stress test successful. Total Concentration maintained under psychological load."
The man stabilized.
The room exhaled.
Later, the doctor leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"You didn't panic," he said.
Akira shook his head. "I didn't need to."
The doctor studied him. "…You're stronger than you look."
Akira didn't disagree.
---
Dawn training changed again.
Akira ran before sword practice now—not far, not fast.
Just enough.
His feet struck the ground lightly, body aligned, breath constant.
No gasping.
No stumble.
> "Stamina and endurance parameters increased. Recovery rate improved."
When he picked up the sword afterward, his movements were sharper—not heavier.
Agile.
Responsive.
He stopped early.
Always early.
---
Mitsuri watched him one morning from afar—hidden behind a fence, heart thumping.
He moved differently now.
Not bigger.
But… settled.
She tried mimicking his breathing later that day.
Her body responded instantly—heat blooming, energy rising.
"…So this is why," she murmured.
That night, she practiced her flowing movements again—longer this time.
She wasn't tired.
Not even a little.
For the first time, that scared her.
She remembered her mother's words.
Listen carefully.
So she stopped.
Even though she didn't need to.
---
Late May ended quietly.
Akira grew stronger without chasing it.
Mitsuri grew curious without naming it.
Both were changing.
And neither of them knew yet—
That the questions they were asking now would shape the paths they walked for the rest of their lives.
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End of Chapter 17
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