I started experimenting a few days later.
Carefully.
The first thing I tried was calling out that strange, cold sensation I had felt before. I sat on my bed, focused, and tried to recreate that feeling—whatever it was. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, faintly, the same chill gathered around my hands.
It didn't last.
The moment I tried to push it outward, the sensation vanished, like mist under sunlight.
That was… disappointing.
I tried again. And again. Each time, the result was the same. A brief response, followed by emptiness. No matter how hard I concentrated, the energy refused to stay.
That's when something clicked.
The first time I felt it strongly wasn't random. It was when I passed by those kids bullying the mutant-type child. The feeling had been sharp then—clear.
Which meant the energy probably wasn't coming from me.
To test that idea, I started paying attention to my surroundings.
Whenever the orphanage was quiet—calm mornings, peaceful afternoons—the strange sensation was almost nonexistent. But during arguments, scoldings, or moments when kids cried or fought, I could feel faint traces of it again. Weak, but there.
That confirmed it.
Whatever this energy was, it came from others.
And more importantly—it didn't last long if I didn't hold onto it.
The amount I had absorbed from that bullying incident was tiny. That explained why it ran out so quickly when I tried to use it. One source, one moment—that wasn't enough.
So I changed my approach.
Instead of trying to use the energy, I focused on keeping it.
Whenever I felt that cold sensation appear, I stopped what I was doing and concentrated on it. I didn't shape it. I didn't push it. I just let it settle, like holding my breath underwater.
Slowly, very slowly, it started to stay.
That was the real breakthrough.
Over time, I realized I didn't need to actively search for the energy. As long as I was near people experiencing strong emotions—fear, anger, frustration—it naturally flowed toward me. All I had to do was not let it slip away.
From then on, accumulation became my main goal.
I didn't rush it. I didn't try anything flashy. I simply stored whatever I could, whenever I could.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
As the amount I held increased, I noticed something else.
When I focused that energy inward—not releasing it, but circulating it through my body—I felt… stronger. Not explosively so, but subtly. My movements became steadier. My balance improved. I could run longer without getting tired. My grip tightened. My body felt more solid.
So I trained.
Every day.
Simple exercises at first. Running, stretching, push-ups done in secret. While doing them, I guided that cold energy through my muscles, carefully reinforcing instead of forcing.
It wasn't easy.
Sometimes the energy slipped away. Sometimes my body rejected it. Sometimes nothing happened at all. But I kept at it, adjusting bit by bit.
By the end of a year, the results were undeniable.
My body was stronger than it should have been for my age. Not monstrously so—nothing that would raise suspicion—but enough that I could feel the difference. I had succeeded in strengthening myself using that strange energy.
That alone told me something important.
This quirk wasn't just about releasing power.
It was about control. Accumulation. Patience.
And I was only just getting started.