Chapter 9: Mornings, Muscle Pain, and Motivational Mumbling
(In which Ren tries to be productive but his body files a formal complaint.)
Here's the thing nobody tells you about being a ninja: fighting without Ki is like trying to swim with rocks tied to your legs. No speed boosts, no fancy healing, no shadow tricks.
Just your body, your sweat, and the alarming realization that your muscles are about as useful as uncooked noodles.
So there we were—me and Kaito, on a literal cloud dojo under the stars—facing each other like it was some kind of anime crossover episode nobody asked for.
"Alright," I said, shaking out my arms. "No Ki. No clones. No magic. Just fists and feet."
Kaito smirked, trying to look cool. "How hard could it be?"
Oh sweet summer child.
To be fair, he looked the part—wide stance, raised fists, even a little bounce on his toes like he was in a boxing match.
Then he lunged.
And tripped.
Straight onto his face.
I tried. I really tried not to laugh. But, well… I'm only human. "Nice footwork, champ."
"Shut up," he grunted, scrambling up with a sheepish grin. "Just testing gravity."
"Pretty sure it passed," I muttered.
We reset, and this time, Kaito came at me with a clumsy punch. I dodged, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him over my shoulder using one of the throws I picked up from the Judo for Beginners video playlist. He hit the soft cloud floor with a "WOOF" noise and blinked up at the sky like it had personally offended him.
"How—? I have, like, six shadow clones practicing back home!"
I shrugged, offering him a hand. "Yeah, and I've got five books and a bruised tailbone, but that doesn't mean I can pull off every move either. You can't rush this stuff, Kaito."
"Then what's the point of clones?!"
"They help you remember the moves," I said. "But your body still has to learn how to move. Timing. Balance. Reflexes. You can't just download that like an app."
He groaned. "So I'm still trash."
"No," I said, pulling him up. "You're better than yesterday."
He blinked. "That… was surprisingly wise."
"Don't get used to it," I said. "The cloud air probably scrambled my sarcasm filter."
We went back at it again. Slowly. Carefully. This time, I showed him how to block properly without punching his own face—yes, that happened—how to lower his stance so he wouldn't fall over like a noodle, and how to breathe without sounding like a deflating balloon.
Honestly, he picked up faster than I expected. Not good yet, but getting there. And every time he stumbled, he just got up again, grinning like he was at an amusement park instead of a boot camp in the heavens.
"Man," he said, huffing as we collapsed after the third round, "this is weirdly fun."
I nodded, flopping onto the cloud floor. "Yeah. Kinda reminds me of when I trained with Kyo. Except you're not a brooding jerk with better hair."
"Rude."
"True."
We lay there for a moment, breathing hard, staring up at a sky filled with shooting stars and glittering galaxies. It was quiet, peaceful. Like the universe paused just to let us catch our breath.
"You think we'll be ready?" Kaito asked quietly. "To handle what's coming?"
I closed my eyes. "Don't know. But we'll get stronger. Bit by bit. Kick by kick."
"Punch by painful, face-breaking punch," he added.
I grinned. "Exactly."
"I will share what I learn with you here, so wait for me."
Those were Kaito's parting words before his sparkly dream-body turned into stardust and vanished into the misty void of Cloudlandia. Or whatever Yunhai Tianren called this place.
"I'll be waiting," I replied, all dramatic and serious, like I wasn't wearing cartoon pajamas in my dream.
Then—poof—I was back in my room, staring up at the ceiling.
Ceiling fans are weird. Especially after dream-sparring your alternate-universe soul-brother in a sky dojo with the Old Immortal watching over the place.
I blinked, still groggy, but instantly noticed something:
I was tucked in.
Perfectly.
There was no way I did that. Not unless sleepwalking-me suddenly developed nurturing instincts and a strong sense of blanket symmetry.
I smiled a little.
Thanks, Mom.
But then I moved.
And regretted it.
"OW."
The sound slipped out before I could stop it.
My arms and legs hurt. Not just sore. Betrayed-by-my-body levels of hurt. Every muscle felt like it had been put through a wood chipper and then rearranged by someone who had only heard of anatomy through interpretive dance.
Lying in bed forever sounded like a pretty decent plan.
But no.
I'd made a promise—to myself, to Kaito, to all the people counting on me—and if Ren Kisaragi quit now just because of a little—read: soul-crushing—pain, what kind of ninja would that make me?
"I can do it," I mumbled.
Again, louder:
"I can do it."
It didn't sound convincing.
Still, I pushed through the ache and swung my legs out of bed.
Victory number one.
Even if it took thirty seconds.
The journey to the bathroom was like walking on stilts for the first time. But I made it. Washed the sleep from my face, took care of nature's business, and looked at myself in the mirror.
Eyes: tired.
Hair: messier than a noodle shop after lunchtime.
Spirit: still kicking.
I gave myself a nod. Not cool or anything. More like a yeah-we're-both-stuck-in-this-body-so-let's-not-die sort of nod.
Back in my room, I did a light warm-up.
Light as in "move and hope nothing falls off."
Arm swings, toe touches, a few squats. Every movement came with a side dish of regret.
Then I headed to the kitchen, still in training gear. The morning light poured in through the windows like some overly cheerful motivational speaker, and I squinted at it like it owed me sleep.
The house was quiet. Too early for anyone to be up yet.
But my stomach was definitely awake.
I poured myself a glass of juice—orange, with pulp, because I'm not a coward—and grabbed a banana and an apple.
Healthy ninja needs healthy fuel.
Juice, gulped.
Fruits, munched.
Mood?
Slightly improved.
Shoes on.
Hoodie zipped.
Time to jog.
The early morning air was crisp and cool, brushing against my skin like the world was telling me, Hey, you survived another night. Good job.
"Alright," I muttered, stretching one last time. "Let's go."
One step, two steps, and soon I was jogging down the street as the sun started peeking over the rooftops.
Every part of my body protested.
But my heart?
It was all in.
There's something weirdly satisfying about jogging when the world's still half asleep. The roads are quiet, the air smells like dew and fresh beginnings, and for once, I could pretend I wasn't stuck in the body of a high school pervert with noodle arms.
Okay.
Former noodle arms.
I was working on that.
My goal that morning?
Operation: Drag Haruki Out of Bed.
Because if there's one thing I've learned from being me—it's that no one ever becomes strong by hitting the snooze button.
Haruki's house wasn't too far from mine. I got there just as the sun was painting gold across the rooftops. I jogged up to the door and rang the bell like it owed me money.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Haruki appeared, hair all over the place, pillow lines on his face, wearing the universal uniform of a guy who just lost a fight with his alarm clock: a wrinkled T-shirt and total confusion.
"Kaito?" he blinked. "It's not even six-thirty."
"That's right," I grinned, hands on my hips. "Perfect training time."
"I didn't agree to training at sunrise!" he whined like a kid about to be dragged to dentist-ninja school.
"Exactly why I came in person."
I leaned in, eyes sparkling with very non-negotiable energy.
"Let's go."
He opened his mouth to protest again—but fate had other plans.
"Good morning!"
A blur of energy and sunshine barreled out from behind him. Hana, in a hoodie and track pants, was already tying her hair into a high ponytail.
"You're going on a run, right? I wanna come!" she chirped, all sparkles and chaos.
Haruki turned to her in slow horror.
"You want to do this?"
"Yup! It's good for your health, Haru-nii! And you need friends who can push you. Kaito's so cool and motivated!"
I tried to look humble, but let's be honest—being called cool is like feeding my soul high-grade noodles.
Haruki slumped in defeat.
"Why does it feel like I've lost before even stepping outside?"
"Because you have," I said, slapping him lightly on the back. "Now go change. I'm not letting you skip leg day."
Five minutes later, the three of us were jogging through the streets, Hana bouncing beside us like a personal cheer squad with unlimited stamina.
"Go, Haru-nii! You can do it!"
"Breathe, Haruki," I added. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. Try to look like you're not dying."
"I am dying!" he wheezed. "Who does this before breakfast?!"
"Champions," Hana beamed, jogging backward to face him. "Also Kaito."
Haruki muttered something about betrayal and siblings, but I could see it—he was keeping pace, even if his legs hated him for it.
He didn't give up.
And that's what mattered.
As we rounded the park and turned back toward their neighborhood, Haruki's steps slowed, but his expression had changed.
He looked… less tired.
More focused.
Hana nudged him with her elbow.
"You did it, Haru-nii."
He panted.
"I… did do it."
"See?" I grinned. "You've got more in you than you think."
We stopped outside his house, and Haruki flopped onto his front steps like a dramatic anime character who'd just finished a training arc.
"Same time tomorrow?" I asked, wiping my brow.
Haruki groaned.
"You're not serious—"
Hana raised her hand like she was swearing into ninja court.
"I'll make sure he's up!"
Haruki groaned again.
I just laughed and started jogging back home.
This world might not have Ki in ordinary life.
But it had Haruki.
And I was gonna make sure he turned into someone who didn't just survive—
but thrived.
----------------------------
POV: Kaito Hoshino
If there's one thing I've learned in my short time as a temporary tenant of this ninja death world, it's this:
Never interrupt Master Jin when he's spiraling.
Seriously. The man talks like a prophet, drinks like an exhausted uncle at a wedding, and thinks like a conspiracy theorist with way too much evidence. And right now? He was in deep.
I sat cross-legged near the training ground, absently poking a rock with a stick while Master Jin paced back and forth, muttering to himself like a rejected villain trying to figure out why his master plan had failed.
"This is too clean… not a single disturbance in the seal," he mumbled. "Soul manipulation across universes, bypassing the Sect formations, Ballom's seal left untouched, no spatial trail…" He stopped, eyes narrowing. "Someone below Sage Realm couldn't possibly do this."
I paused.
Blinking.
And then immediately burst out laughing.
Because, well…
Yeah.
He'd basically overthought himself straight into the truth.
Master Jin froze mid-ramble and turned toward me like a suspicious cat.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing," I said between chuckles. "Just… you're not exactly wrong. You kind of thought your way directly into the answer."
His expression sharpened.
"What?"
I tossed the stick aside and stood up, brushing dirt from Ren's pants. "Okay, so don't freak out, but Ren and I meet every night in this weird dream place. Like, boom—cloud palace, training, deep conversations about Magical Girls and noodles. The usual."
Master Jin stared at me.
"You've been in contact with Ren?"
I nodded. "Yup. And before you ask—no, I can't summon him. No, I don't know where the place actually is. And yes, he's fine. More than fine, actually. He's training, making friends, and apparently discovering the wonders of the internet."
For half a second, all the tension disappeared from Jin's face.
Ren was alive.
Then it came right back.
"Who did this?"
I scratched my cheek.
"Well… that's the weird part."
"Kaito."
"Right, right." I held up both hands. "The guy told us himself. It was Yunhai Tianren."
Silence.
Not normal silence.
Not even shocked silence.
This was the kind of silence where someone's brain had just fallen down a flight of stairs.
Master Jin stared at me.
"…Say that again."
"Yunhai Tianren."
Still staring.
"The First Ascendant?"
"Yep."
"The Old Immortal?"
"That's the one."
"The First Guardian of Mankind? The Ancestor of the Dao?"
"He has way too many titles, but yes."
Master Jin slowly sat down.
I wasn't sure whether that meant he believed me or his legs had temporarily stopped functioning.
"He appeared in the dream realm," I continued. "He said he was the one who swapped us. Apparently, Ren and I were both heading toward some seriously terrible futures. Like ninety-percent-chance-of-dying-young terrible. So he changed our paths before everything went wrong."
Master Jin said nothing.
"He said the swap is supposed to force us to grow differently," I added. "Ren has to learn how to live without relying on his power, and I have to learn how to actually work for power instead of just dreaming about getting it."
Still nothing.
"…You okay?"
Master Jin slowly rubbed his face.
"No."
"Fair."
He stared toward the trees for several seconds.
"The First Ascendant…"
"Very grandfatherly," I offered. "Nice beard."
"Kaito."
"Sorry."
Master Jin remained quiet, but something about his expression bothered me. He didn't look relieved. If anything, he looked like I'd just handed him a puzzle with twice as many pieces.
Finally, he muttered, "This answers one question and creates a hundred more."
"Welcome to my life."
He looked at me.
"Did Yunhai Tianren say why he chose you specifically?"
"Bad future. Wasted potential. Lack of direction. Apparently, wanting to become Harem King doesn't count as a proper life goal."
"It doesn't."
"Wow. Judgmental."
Master Jin pinched the bridge of his nose.
"And Ren?"
"Alive. Safe. Training. He told me to tell you he's doing fine."
Jin's shoulders loosened slightly.
Only slightly.
Then I grinned.
"Oh, and he met a Magical Girl."
Master Jin stared at me.
I stared back.
"…Earth," he muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
But I'd learned enough about powerful ninja masters to know when asking questions would get me absolutely nowhere.
So I dropped back onto the grass.
Master Jin remained silent for a long time, staring into the distance.
I didn't know it then, but I could tell something about Yunhai Tianren's involvement bothered him.
Not enough to call it a lie.
Not enough to dismiss what I'd seen.
Just enough that the gears inside his head had started turning again.
And judging by Master Jin's expression?
Those gears were probably going to keep turning all night.
Let me be real with you.
Ren's Shadow Clone Art sounded awesome in theory.
I mean, come on—make a bunch of shadow versions of yourself, send them off to practice, let them do all the boring repetition, and then use what they learned.
Brilliant, right?
WRONG.
So, so wrong.
"Ten," Master Jin said sternly. "That's your limit."
I raised an eyebrow.
Ren's shadow stretched beneath my feet, already twitching eagerly.
"Only ten?"
"You can create far more."
I grinned.
Then Jin continued.
"You cannot properly control far more."
My grin died.
"Oh."
"Ren has used this technique since childhood. His concentration is trained for it. Yours isn't. Ten shadows practicing ten different movements is already more information than your mind is accustomed to processing."
"Can my brain explode?"
"No."
"Good."
"You can collapse."
"Less good."
So I did as instructed.
I focused on the darkness beneath my feet.
Ren's Ki responded almost automatically. The shadow stretched outward across the grass, split apart, and rose.
One black figure.
Then another.
Then another.
Until ten shadowy copies of Ren stood around me, each one shaped exactly like this body but made entirely from living darkness.
They looked at me.
I looked at them.
Then they grinned.
That was somehow disturbing.
"Alright, boss," one of them said, cracking its knuckles. "Time to show you how bad you suck."
Wait.
What?
"Hey, aren't you supposed to help me?"
"Oh, we will," another shadow said cheerfully. "Through combat experience."
A third raised both fists.
"Trial by pain!"
"Why do all of you sound like me?!"
"Because we are you, genius!"
Then one charged.
And that, dear reader, is how I found myself getting beaten up by ten shadow people controlled by my own brain.
There was punching.
Kicking.
Dodging.
One attempted throw.
And one shadow somehow managed to smack me in the back of the head while I was concentrating on another one.
Master Jin stood nearby watching with the calm expression of a man who had probably seen Ren do much worse.
"Stop thinking about each shadow separately!" he called.
"I'M TRYING!"
"Your body is fast enough. Use it!"
That was another problem.
Ren's body was ridiculous.
Strong enough to make normal exercise feel like stretching. Fast enough that even my bad movements could send me several meters farther than I expected.
The body wasn't getting tired.
I was.
Trying to coordinate Ren's speed, Ki, balance, ten shadow clones, and a fighting style I barely understood made my brain feel like somebody had stuffed twenty conversations into my skull at once.
One shadow threw a punch.
I blocked too early.
Another swept my leg.
I overcorrected.
Ren's body moved perfectly fine.
My brain did not.
I hit the ground.
"OW!"
"That didn't hurt," Master Jin said.
"It hurt emotionally!"
One of my shadows actually laughed at me.
Traitor.
Eventually, I managed to read one properly.
A shadow stepped forward.
I saw the shoulder move.
Remembered Ren's instruction from the dream.
Shift.
Turn.
Counter.
My fist passed straight through its chest.
The shadow collapsed into darkness and flowed back into mine.
And suddenly—
BAM.
Its experience hit me.
The angle.
The timing.
The mistake it noticed in my stance.
The opening I'd left near my ribs.
It was like somebody dumped an entire practice session straight into my head.
I stumbled.
"Oh."
Master Jin smirked.
"Now you understand."
"That is…"
I blinked.
"…actually insanely cool."
Another shadow kicked me in the backside.
"FOCUS!"
"RIGHT!"
By the time the last shadow returned to mine, Ren's body could've probably kept going for hours.
My mind?
My mind had filed for retirement.
I dropped onto the grass and stared at the sky.
Master Jin walked over and handed me some water.
"You did well."
I looked up.
"Really?"
"No."
I glared.
He smirked.
"But you did better than yesterday."
I took the bottle.
"…I'll accept that."
"You're still thinking like Kaito Hoshino inside Ren Kisaragi's body," Jin said. "You panic before impact. You hesitate when the body already knows it can survive. You try to force movements instead of trusting them."
"So basically my biggest weakness is me."
"For now."
"Ouch."
"That one actually hurt."
I groaned and covered my face.
"I want my normal high school life back. Girls. Manga. Lunch breaks. Absolutely no shadow people kicking me in the spine."
Master Jin shrugged.
"Train hard enough and you may get it back."
I peeked between my fingers.
"And the girls?"
"Kaito."
"Important motivation."
He walked away.
I lay there for another few seconds before grinning.
Fine.
Training sucked.
My brain hurt.
My dignity was being murdered daily by my own shadows.
But I was getting better.
And someday, when I got my own body back…
Maybe Kaito Hoshino wouldn't just be the guy who dreamed about becoming someone incredible.
Maybe I'd actually become someone worth dreaming about.