The next morning, Seijuro woke before the sun. He tied his long dark hair back into a small ponytail and splashed cold water over his face, the droplets running down his light brown skin. He grabbed his sword and left a note on the desk,
"I'll be back before sundown, Mom. Take care of yourself."
He stepped outside, the cool morning air brushing against him, but froze,
Does he just expect me to wander into the woods and somehow find him?
The forest stretched endlessly ahead, thick with mist and shadow. Every direction looked the same. He tightened the strap of his sword, brushing his fingers over Ren's toy at the end of the grip. The memory of that day made his chest tighten, but anger and determination surged beneath the grief. Seijuro began walking into the forest. The deeper he went, the cooler and quieter the air became. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy, casting shifting patterns across the dirt path. Strange, glowing insects flitted between the trees, and the scent of damp earth and cherry blossoms filled his lungs. Minutes passed, then hours. Every tree seemed familiar yet foreign, and the silence pressed against him like a living thing,
"Captain Frank?" he called once. Only the rustle of leaves answered.
Frustrated, he rested his hand against the rough bark of an old oak. The moment his fingers touched it, the air seemed to hum faintly. The ground beneath him shifted imperceptibly. Far ahead, a subtle shimmer appeared between the trunks, threads of faint purple light, twisting and weaving in a way that seemed almost intentional. They vanished as quickly as they appeared, leaving only the forest's quiet.
Seijuro frowned but instinctively followed where the light had been. The undergrowth gave way to a small clearing. A clear stream wound through the space, glistening in the rising sun. To his right, a waterfall tumbled down a cliff, mist cooling the air. The forest beyond seemed endless and dark,
"Young Seijuro."
The voice startled him. From the mist to his right, Frank rolled into view in his wheelchair, wearing the familiar grin,
"You could have been more specific on where to meet," Seijuro said, frowning,
"I suppose," Frank replied with a soft chuckle. "But you found it anyway, didn't you?"
"So… are we starting?" Seijuro asked, impatience in his voice,
"Yes. But first, I assume you want to know why we are here?" Frank lowered his shades to meet Seijuro's eyes,
Seijuro nodded,
"In order to utilize dark matter or Tenebris, one must have complete control over one's emotions. You must be 'at one' with yourself. What better place to practice than amidst nature itself?"
"So, once I do… I can levitate objects and other things, right?" Seijuro asked,
Frank chuckled, only deepening Seijuro's frown, "Mages have three types: physical, sense, and element. Physical amplifies strength, speed, endurance. Sense enhances one of the five senses, explaining why Captain Koji's blindfold doesn't stop him. Element types manipulate aspects of the environment."
He tilted his head, "So, what type are you?"
Frank paused, pushing his shades up. "I am a physical type, young Seijuro."
"But you're…" Seijuro hesitated,
"In a wheelchair?" Frank laughed, "A word of advice…"
Then dark purple energy began to swirl around his legs. Slowly, he rose to his feet. Spikes erupted from his shoulder and elbow, and his wheelchair reassembled into a massive sword, which he rested on his shoulder. Towering over Seijuro, Frank smiled kindly, "Forget all your assumptions," he said.
Seijuro swallowed, speechless, "Good. Let's begin." Frank slammed the sword into the ground. The impact cracked the earth, sending Seijuro stumbling. After recovering, he sat cross-legged as Frank gestured him to do the same,
"Once you can remove the sword from the ground, your combat training begins. Relax. Be at peace with yourself. Control your emotions," Frank instructed, smiling,
"So… I'm basically King Arthur?" Seijuro scoffed, standing and approaching the sword.
As his hands touched the grip, flashes of Ren's terrified face flooded his mind. He let go immediately, heart racing,
"Dark matter is our emotions. Without control, it leaks out. A powerful man enslaved by his own emotions wields no power at all." Frank said, stern yet supportive.
Days passed. Then weeks. The moon came and went, each attempt ending the same, his hands trembling, his heart burning with frustration. A month later, Seijuro sat on the balcony of his home, staring blankly at the fading sunset. His sword leaned beside him.
Memories of Ren's cries haunted him, flooding him with anguish and hopelessness. One evening, sitting on the balcony after a failed attempt, his mother approached quietly,
"Everything okay, son?" she asked, smiling gently,
"Yes… Mom…" Her hand touched his cheek,
"No. I know when my boy is troubled. Tell me what's wrong."
He snapped, "What's wrong? I've been trying to pull that damn sword from the ground for a month! Every day! Frank keeps saying I need to control my emotions, but I have! I've tried everything! And those bastards, those things, are out there getting away with what they did!"
He raised his voice, frustration and grief spilling out. She placed a hand over his mouth,
"You don't seem in control of your emotions right now, do you?"
Seijuro lowered his eyes. She was right,
"My little Ren meant everything to me… and to you too. I know his death hurts, and your anger feels justified. But instead of letting that memory feed your rage, use it to steady yourself. Don't let your anger grip you. You grip your anger."
"You want me to let go of Ren's death?" he asked quietly,
"Of course not, my boy. I'm saying use this…" she tapped his forehead, "…instead of this." She tapped his chest,
"To move forward, you need a clear mind. You can do this, Seijuro. I know you can."
He nodded, tears forming, feeling her words settle like stones in his chest,
"Also," she added, "Captain Frank gave me enough gold to last through the year and pay off our debts."
Seijuro's eyes widened. "He did…?"
She nodded, smiling warmly. Gratitude filled him toward Frank and his mother's wisdom.