Soul of a Samurai

The morning air was crisp as I stood in the training field, facing my father.

Today was the beginning of a new phase.

I had awakened my chakra.

Now, I had to learn how to control it.

Father stood with his arms crossed, watching me.

"This will be different from anything you've trained in so far," he said.

I listened intently.

"In combat, chakra is used to enhance the body, strengthen weapons, and perform techniques. But if you cannot control it, it will be wasted."

I nodded, absorbing his words.

He held out his sword.

"For now, we focus on something simple—pushing chakra into your blade to form a protective layer."

I looked down at my wooden sword.

"A protective layer?" I repeated.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Without proper control, chakra will disperse uselessly. But if you concentrate, you can use it to reinforce your weapon—make it sharper, stronger, and more durable."

I tightened my grip on the handle.

"Sounds easy enough," I said.

Father smirked.

"Try it, then."

I closed my eyes, inhaling slowly.

I had already infused chakra into my body before, strengthening my muscles and endurance.

This should be the same process… right?

I focused, pulling in the familiar blue particles around me.

I felt them sink into my body, spreading through my limbs.

Then, carefully, I directed them toward my sword.

For a moment—nothing happened.

I frowned, pushing harder.

The sword trembled in my grip, and then—

Crack.

The wooden blade snapped in half.

I blinked, staring at it.

Father sighed.

"As expected," he muttered.

I looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You forced the chakra in too violently," he explained. "Rather than reinforcing the weapon, you shattered it."

I stared at the broken wood in my hand.

Too much energy had surged into it all at once.

It was like trying to pour a raging river into a tiny cup.

"…So I need to be gentler."

Father nodded. "Try again."

For the next few hours, I repeated the exercise.

Each time, I either used too little chakra, making no difference at all, or too much, nearly destroying another training sword.

I gritted my teeth in frustration.

Control.

I needed control.

I exhaled slowly, gripping the hilt once more.

I visualized the chakra flowing smoothly—not rushing in, but coating the blade like a second layer of steel.

A deep breath.

Then—

A faint glow.

The sword hummed in my hands.

Not violently. Not weakly.

Just right.

I stared at it, eyes widening.

"…I did it."

Father smirked.

"Good. Now, hold it."

I blinked. "What?"

He crossed his arms.

"Keep your chakra flowing through the blade until I say stop."

I opened my mouth to protest—this took too much focus!

But then I realized—

That's the point.

This was a test of endurance.

I clenched my jaw and nodded.

For the next several hours, I maintained the chakra flow.

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I fought against the urge to relax.

If I slipped for even a second, the energy would fade.

By the time father finally said, "Enough," my body nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

But I had done it.

Then—

Physical training began.

My muscles burned from exhaustion, but I pushed through.

The routine was the same—endurance, strength, agility—except now, I had to maintain chakra control while performing the exercises.

After that—sparring.

I barely had time to rest before my father drew his sword.

We fought until late into the night—

Me using everything I had learned, with and without my blade.

Each time, I was defeated.

But each time, I lasted longer.

Got closer.

Improved.

When we finally ended for the night, I collapsed onto the dirt, exhausted but satisfied.

Father stood over me, his expression unreadable.

"…This is only the beginning," he said.

I grinned up at him.

"I know."

As we walked back home for dinner, I clenched my fists, determination burning inside me.

Tomorrow, I would do even better.