Tokasu woke with a sharp inhale, his entire body jolting upright as if pulled from the depths of the earth. Cold sweat slicked his brow and soaked the back of his shirt. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving, eyes wide as they darted around the dim interior of his small bedroom.
The dream. No, the nightmare.
The same one that haunted him every night.
His trembling hands found the edge of the blanket, fingers digging into the cloth as if to ground himself in reality. But it never truly helped. Nothing ever did.
He still heard the screams. Still saw the blood. Still felt the helplessness.
Every night, he was five years old again—watching his father fall with a weapon in his chest, hearing his mother whisper her last words before she disappeared behind a veil of death.
Every night, it tore him apart.
But it also hardened him.
Tokasu swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. His jaw clenched. His eyes—normally tired and half-lidded—burned now with quiet fury.
"The Akatsuki..."
His voice was raw, quiet, and venomous.
"I'll kill them all."
...
Elsewhere in the village, sunlight filtered through the high windows of a dojo nestled in the Senju district. The scent of sakura blossoms drifted in from the open courtyard, where birds chirped merrily without a care in the world.
Sayaka Senju was anything but careless.
She stood in front of a tall blonde woman, hands on her hips, a wild grin on her face. Her chestnut-brown hair was tied in a messy high ponytail, loose strands framing her confident expression.
"Auntie Tsunade, come on! You've gotta teach me chakra control already!"
The woman across from her, dressed in a green haori over a grey kimono top, raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms. Her name was known throughout the world—Tsunade Senju, one of the Legendary Sannin.
She also happened to be Sayaka's mentor and honorary aunt.
"You've barely stopped punching trees since last week, and now you want to learn fine chakra control?" Tsunade asked dryly.
"Exactly! My fists are strong enough! I want to add precision! Imagine how cool it would be if I could punch with lightning and not miss a single vital point!"
Tsunade snorted. "You want precision because it looks cool?"
Sayaka tilted her head, pretending to think. "Well... yeah. But also because I want to be able to fight smarter. You're always going on about how strength without control is wasted. I listened. I'm listening!"
Tsunade eyed her for a long moment. Sayaka's grin never faltered.
Then the older woman sighed and turned toward the courtyard. "Fine. But if we're doing this, we're doing it properly. No shortcuts. You mess up, and you're doing chakra thread work until your hands cramp."
Sayaka's green eyes lit up. "Yes! Thank you, Auntie Tsu! You're the best!"
Tsunade grimaced. "Don't call me that in public."
The two stepped into the courtyard. Tsunade began explaining the theory of chakra control, drawing a small leaf from a nearby branch.
"Most shinobi think control means making it smaller. It's not just that. It's about intention. Direction. You need to learn to channel it precisely, like water flowing through a thin tube."
Sayaka took the leaf, furrowing her brow. "So it's like aiming lightning through a needle. Got it."
Tsunade gave her a look. "This isn't lightning release. Not yet. This is about basic discipline. You need to master that before you can do anything flashy."
Sayaka sighed dramatically, holding the leaf to her forehead.
Tsunade watched her for a long moment.
Sayaka was loud. Impulsive. Wild. But there was something special about her. Beneath the bluster and grins was raw, burning potential—the kind Tsunade hadn't seen since her old teammates.
"You know," Tsunade said suddenly, softening just a little, "your mom would've been proud of you."
Sayaka blinked, the smile on her face faltering for just a second. Then she nodded, eyes a little brighter.
"I'll make sure of it."
And then, with her usual spark, she added, "But she'd be prouder if I mastered chakra control and punched lightning through a mountain, right?"
Tsunade rolled her eyes. "Don't push it."
Sayaka beamed. "Too late. I already am."
...
Even more elsewhere within the village, Yuki Kazanari sat cross-legged in his apartment when a sudden knock echoed from the front door. He blinked, sensing chakra.
When he opened the door, a tall shinobi stood there in full uniform—one of the Hokage's personal guards. His armor bore the Sarutobi clan crest, and his expression was calm but observant.
"Yuki Kazanari?"
"Yeah."
"I have a delivery from Lord Third."
The man held out a long, ornate wooden box, polished and reinforced with black steel hinges. As Yuki took it, the weight alone confirmed what he hoped—it wasn't empty.
The guard gave a small nod. "You're free to open it."
Yuki closed the door and knelt by the low table in his living space. With careful fingers, he unlatched the box and opened the lid.
His breath caught in his throat.
Inside lay a katana, forged with elegance and precision. It wasn't oversized by standard terms—but to a boy as young and slight as Yuki, it felt nearly like an odachi. The blade was housed in a smooth scabbard of matte black, accented with ice-blue threads that spiraled up the hilt like veins of frost. A white flame motif was etched along the guard—subtle, yet intricate—matching the core of his Kekkei Genkai.
Yuki reached out and gently lifted the weapon. It felt heavy at first, but not unwieldy—balanced with deliberate intent. He could grow into this blade, wield it with both hands or one depending on how his style evolved.
Perfect.
He unsheathed it slowly. The metal whispered like breath against silk. The blade itself shimmered with a faint pale-blue tint—steel infused with chakra-conductive alloy, likely folded with rare minerals.
Yuki's hands trembled.
He stood up, stepping out onto his balcony where the sun angled across the village rooftops.
He closed his eyes, focused his chakra.
With one smooth breath, he activated his Frostfire+Chakra enhancement.
White flame ignited along the length of the blade, flickering gently at first, then roaring to life—contained but powerful. The flame danced up and down the steel, controlled and symmetrical. It didn't sputter. It didn't burn him. And more importantly—it didn't consume the sword.
Yuki gave it a few practice swings. The fire stayed stable, rippling like silk in the wind. His chakra cost was half of what it had been before. More efficient. More lethal.
He smiled.
This was it. His weapon. His edge.
...
Back at the entrance, the Hokage's guard lingered for a moment longer. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the distant flicker of white chakra through the window's reflection.
"Huh," he muttered. "So that's him."
He hadn't expected much when he was assigned to deliver the blade. Another gifted kid in the village—another name added to the long list of hopefuls. But now? Watching the chakra flare, controlled and deliberate…
There was something different about this one.
His eyes narrowed slightly as the faint white light pulsed again—faintly at first, then strong, steady. Visible chakra. Not from a berserk transformation or loss of control. This was focused. Intentional.
"…He's already manifesting it outside his body?" the guard murmured, more to himself than anyone else. For a genin, that was rare. Even prodigies took years before their chakra grew dense and refined enough to be seen, let alone shaped like that.
The air carried the faint chill of frostfire, and the guard's expression shifted—no longer just curious, but genuinely intrigued.
The faintest trace of a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.
"Kid asked for a sword instead of jutsu," he mused under his breath. "Either he's got a death wish… or a plan."
He turned from the door, glancing up at the balcony where the white flame danced through the gaps in the wood.
"Let's hope it's the second one."
With that, the guard disappeared in a flicker of movement, leaving behind the boy and the blade—and the quiet, steady hum of chakra that hinted something important had just begun.