Chapter 22: TrainingxBasics

The relentless wind carries the scent of the ocean as the waves crash against the shore, echoing through the empty expanse. Five days. That's all Hanzo needs to master the theory behind even complex nen techniques and grasp Ten, even if just to a small degree. The intensity of his training has been brutal. The sun beats down on us, and the heat presses in from every direction, the suffocating humidity adding weight to every breath. The beach, unforgiving and isolated, has become his crucible.

Hanzo stands across from me, sweat dripping down his face and neck, his muscles trembling from exertion. He's been pushing himself hard, but the results are still erratic. I watch as he struggles again, trying to maintain control over his Ten, trying to hold his aura steady. His body shudders, and I catch the faintest shimmer around him a desperate, uncontrolled flicker of energy that flares out before he can stabilize it.

"You're wasting too much energy," I call out, my voice cutting through the wind. "Focus. Compress it around yourself. Once you can hold it perfectly for over two hours, we can move on to other matters."

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath heavy. His brow furrows in frustration, but he doesn't speak. The silence between us is thick, filled with the sound of his efforts and the occasional crash of waves. I know this is hard for him. It's been only five days, and his body isn't used to Nen yet. But it's too late for him to go back now.

I watch him for a moment longer, then step forward. "Your aura isn't just a barrier, Hanzo. It's your life force. Everything you are flows through it. Treat it like an extension of yourself, but let it move naturally, like the tide of the ocean. Then compress it, as if you're putting the water from the tide into a glass, naturally molding to the shape it's in."

Hanzo's jaw tightens. He closes his eyes, focusing intently, trying to shut everything else out. His hands shake as he holds them forward, aura seeping out like a thin mist. He's trying, but his control is still lacking. I can see the strain in his posture. The frustration eating at him.

"Focus on the center of your chest," I instruct. "Find your core and pull the energy there. Your aura is scattered. Tighten it up. Then compress it."

He nods, but I see the uncertainty in his body movements. For the last five days, I've had him practice Ten for hours on end. It's the first and most basic step, but it's exhausting. I know his body aches from the constant strain, and the heat of the sun does nothing to help but this is something that can't be rushed.

He needs a solid foundation to build on.

His body trembles harder now, his eyes clenched shut as he battles to contain his energy. Then, something shifts. The aura leaking out of him forms a faint glimmer around him for 14 minutes until some of it escapes and dissipates, into the air in a shimmer. He regains control a millisecond after and starts holding Ten again.

"That's it," I say, nodding. "Now hold it in. Don't let any of it go."

He struggles for about 10 more minutes before the shimmer fades into the air, and with it, his aura. He drops to his knees, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his face. I see how physically drained he is, and how the weight of the training is beginning to take its toll.

I'm not done with him yet.

"Get up," I command, my tone firm but not unkind. "We're not stopping until you master this."

I'm pushing him hard, but being a ninja, he's almost certainly gone through worse.

For the next few hours, we continue. Every time Hanzo falters, I push him to keep going. His energy is spent, his mind clouded with fatigue, but he keeps going. He's like a blade being hammered into shape.

By the time the sun is low in the sky, Hanzo is barely standing, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. But there's a subtle change in the way he carries himself. His aura, while still weak, is more stable, and more controlled. He's no longer just going with the natural flow of his aura he's starting to control it.

I take a step back, giving him a moment to breathe. His body is drenched in sweat, and the exhaustion on his face is unmistakable. But I can see it in his eyes. He's not giving up. He's still here. He's still trying. And that's what matters.

"Good," I say finally, breaking the silence. "You're getting there."

Hanzo doesn't speak, but I see him nod slightly, his hands clenched into fists as he steadies his breath. He's learning. His body is battered, but his spirit is unbroken.

When nightfall hits, I make a fishing rod from shadows and catch a few fish for us to eat before going to sleep.

Today, we take a rest from Ten and start working on controlling his Zetsu to the utmost extent until he can control In for ten minutes. Hanzo is still struggling to find a rhythm with Ten, but I know we don't have much time the end of the exam is coming up, and after that is one-on-ones. He needs rest from the strain of the week, and there's no better way to train while resting than working on Zetsu.

"'In' is the next step," I explain as he sits on the ground. "After you master Zetsu, when you can completely hide your aura signature, it's called 'In'."

He tries again, his aura flickering weakly around him.

I step back and watch him. "Don't let the energy flow out of you. If there's even a trace of aura picked up with Gyo or En, you've failed."

It's a constant battle. His body aches from yesterday, but I see him pushing back against the tide of aura trying to escape his body. His aura signature gets smaller, faster at first, then slower as the aura starts piling up and pushing outward with greater force.

Watching him carefully, I say, "Push harder. Don't think. Just suppress it as far as you can and hold it there."

After another grueling hour, Hanzo manages to keep his aura completely caged for a few moments, then a little longer. When I tell him to release his aura after he finally hits the ten-minute goal I set for him, it bursts around him, pulsing with life. I can see the tension ease from his body.

Since he met the goal with 'In', we finish the day with some light Gyo practice.

"You're done for today," I say, my voice softer than before. "Rest. Tomorrow, we move to meet some friends of mine."

He nods silently, his breath ragged but steady. He's exhausted. The next step in his training will be even harder. But for now, this brief moment of success is enough.

Five days. That's all it's taken. And already, Hanzo is starting to change. His body may be exhausted, but his will is still unyielding.

I glance out at the ocean, the waves crashing on the shore as the sun sets on another grueling day of training. This is just the beginning. The road ahead is long, but Hanzo has already taken his first steps to be a key in some of my future plans.