The history of the Gekkō clan reaches back to the blood-soaked dawn of the Warring States period. In those days, they were a titan among Bloodline Limit clans. Armed with the elusive Transparency Release and a legacy of lethal swordsmanship, a Gekkō was a ghost in the tall grass—a terrifying predator in an era where Ninjutsu was still a crude, unrefined art.
But ghosts are easily found by those who know how to look.
With the rise of sensory Ninjutsu, the Gekkō's shroud began to fray. Those whose blood was thin or whose mastery faltered were plucked from the shadows and slaughtered in meticulously planned ambushes. Retaliation followed retreat. Their numbers dwindled, their legendary sword techniques were scattered to the winds of defeat, and by the time the Hidden Leaf Village was founded, the once-great clan had withered into a single, fragile lineage.
In Konoha Year 14, the clan head, Ryoichi Gekkō, fell during a mission. The glory of the Gekkō was reduced to a memory, held in the hands of a single child.
Konoha Year 16. The Gekkō Compound.
The setting sun bled across the training field, casting a long, thin shadow behind a small figure.
Xingye swung the wooden sword. His breath hitched, a sharp hiss behind clenched teeth, but his form did not waver. He was barely five years old, with delicate features and bright, searching eyes, but he moved with a chilling precision. His stance, the grip on his hilt, the pivot of his lead foot—every movement was a mirror image of a textbook ideal.
He had been at it for two hours. His small hands began to tremble, the weight of the practice blade suddenly feeling like leaden iron. His muscles burned with a dull, throbbing ache that threatened to buckle his knees.
"That's enough for today, Little Night," a soft voice drifted across the yard. "Go wash up. Dinner is almost ready."
Xingye froze mid-swing. He blinked, the intensity in his eyes flickering out as he turned toward his mother, Rie Gekkō. He stood stunned for a heartbeat before a sudden, radiant grin broke across his face. He tossed the wooden sword aside and sprinted toward the house like a gale of wind.
Rie stood paralyzed for a moment, watching the blur of her son disappear through the doorway. "He's rarely that excited," she murmured, a puzzled smile touching her lips. "What has gotten into him?"
She walked over and retrieved the discarded sword. Examining the wood, she felt a swell of quiet pride. Ryoichi had once grumbled that the boy was dull-witted—that he lacked the spark to carry the name. You were wrong, Ryoichi, she thought. With talent like this, the Gekkō name might truly breathe again.
Inside, shielded by the privacy of the bathroom, Xingye wasn't thinking about clan revival. He was busy dancing.
Finally! A whole year of swinging that damn stick, and I've finally broken through!
Xingye was an anomaly—a soul from another world who had woken up in the body of a Gekkō child after a fatal accident. Based on his mental calculations, he wasn't just any Gekkō; he was likely the man who would one day father Hayate Gekkō. The timeline was a perfect fit.
But in this life, the future was an unwritten scroll. Xingye had something no other ninja possessed: the Sword Heart System.
It was a simple, brutal logic. The system absorbed the kinetic energy of his daily practice and converted it into experience. No matter how meager his natural talent might be, enough repetitions would eventually force a breakthrough.
He closed his eyes, and a translucent screen shimmered into existence in his mind's eye.
Swordsmanship Level: Entry-level (0 / 100)
System Evaluation: You have reached the entry level. You should no longer accidentally stab yourself during practice. Congratulations—you are now officially a 'dabbler.'
Xingye's lip twitched. The system was a sarcastic prick. His previous evaluation at the "Beginner" stage had warned him not to use real steel because the system "couldn't reattach severed fingers."
He ignored the snark and focused on the notification he had been waiting for: the breakthrough reward.
A list of techniques blurred past his vision, scrolling with dizzying speed. His pulse hammered against his ribs. Please, something useful. Give me something that keeps me alive.
The scrolling slowed, clicking through options until it settled on a single entry.
Secret Skill: Assault
Description: The host enters a momentary state of invisibility. Upon breaking the shroud, the host launches a high-velocity piercing strike.
Xingye's eyes widened. Invisibility? It sounded like a refined application of his clan's Transparency Release. The system hadn't just given him a move; it was helping him bridge the gap to his heritage.
He was itching to test it, to feel the world blur around him, but his mother's voice cut through his excitement again.
"Little Night! Dinner!"
He sighed, pushing the golden interface away. The power could wait; his mother's temper could not.
At the dinner table, Rie watched her son closely. He was staring at his rice, suppressing a giddy smirk that made him look slightly unhinged.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked, tilting her head.
Xingye didn't look up. He just let out a small, muffled laugh. "I just thought of something happy, Mom."
Rie's expression softened, her eyes lighting up with a sudden realization. "I know! It's the Academy, isn't it? You're excited that classes start in two days!"
Xingye paused. He had almost forgotten. Amidst the grind of training, the date had crept up on him. He had passed the entrance exam weeks ago.
In two days, he would be stepping into a classroom filled with the legends of the next half-century. Tsunade Senju. Jiraiya. Orochimaru. The giants of the Hidden Leaf.
He looked at his calloused palms and felt the hum of the Assault skill waiting in the back of his mind.
"Yeah," Xingye said, his voice dropping into a tone of quiet, steel-edged confidence. "The Academy. I'm ready."