Murakami slid his door open at the usual time stepping into the cool morning air. The sky was still dim and the orphanage was wrapped in its usual early silence.
He stepped out… and paused.
Aiko was already there standing near the walkway, arms tucked close for warmth, hair still slightly messy from sleep but her eyes were unmistakably awake.
And determined.
She was really here.
Murakami blinked once. …Impressive. At least she wasn't all talk. Most kids her age wouldn't sacrifice a warm futon even for glory.
Aiko dipped her head slightly. "Good morning."
"Morning," Murakami replied calmly.
She took a small breath. "I said I'd be ready."
He nodded, accepting that without praise or surprise. "Then follow me."
Aiko nodded once and walked beside him without another word.
They reached the clearing, where he usually trained. He stepped forward into the clearing, the damp grass brushing against his bare feet.
Aiko slowed beside him, her gaze drifting towards the tree by the side and then the lake. It was the same lake Murakami had trained beside the night before.
A soft, almost nostalgic breath left her.
"…It hasn't changed," she murmured. "Back then… we used to sneak out here, remember? Me, Daichi, Tora and you."
Murakami raised a brow slightly. "Sneak out?"
Aiko huffed lightly. "Well… you didn't sneak. You just walked. The rest of us followed because—" she shrugged, "—you were always here anyway."
He considered that for a moment. Right… that. He had never invited anyone, never shooed anyone away either. Children tended to fill the quiet spaces on their own.
Aiko studied him for a moment, then nodded as if his silence made perfect sense.
"So," she said, stepping closer to the center of the clearing, "where do we start?"
Murakami allowed the silence to sit for a moment.
Aiko waited.
Murakami spoke simply, without theatrics. "If you want to understand strength… We'll start with the basics. The real basics."
Aiko straightened slightly.
"People think strength is about who has more chakra, who is hitting harder or moving faster. It's none of that." His gaze drifted over the clearing. "Chakra control… that's most of it. More than they teach, more than most people understand."
Aiko listened closely. She understood how important chakra control was but for Murakami to place it above even chakra and physical strength…there was something that she didn't know.
"Chakra control," he said simply. "It makes up far more of true strength than people care to admit. Most think it's just about sticking leaves to your forehead or climbing trees."
His eyes focused on the clearing ahead, expression serene but sharp. "But control… real control… decides everything. How fast you move. How hard you hit. How long you last. How much you waste or don't waste..."
Murakami let the quiet sit for a moment longer, then continued, his tone even.
"…and most importantly, how much advantage you have in unnatural terrain."
Aiko blinked, head tilting slightly. "Unnatural… terrain?"
He didn't answer.
"Follow me."
Murakami turned without waiting for her and began walking toward the lake.
Aiko hesitated only a second before trailing after him, her steps light but curious..
They reached the edge of the lake. Aiko stopped but Murakami didn't.
He stepped forward straight… onto the water.
Not beside it.
Not into it.
Onto it.
Aiko's eyes flew wide, a small gasp catching in her throat as she instinctively reached out a hand, as if to warn him he'd fall.
But he didn't sink. Not even a little. His steps didn't splash or ripple more than a feather's touch, as though the surface had become solid under him alone.
He continued walking and Aiko stood frozen at the bank, completely stunned, caught somewhere between awe, confusion, and the dawning realization that she had no idea what she had signed up for.
Murakami didn't look back.
He simply stopped a few steps out on the water, the lake perfectly still beneath him as the morning fog curled around his ankles like pale smoke.
"Aiko," he said, his voice steady, "this is the first lesson."
She swallowed nervously, eyes fixed on his feet as if the water might suddenly remember what water was supposed to do.
"W-Water walking…?" she managed.
Murakami inclined his head slightly. "Surface Tension Control. Chakra applied in a constant, precise flow. Too much and you push yourself off. Too little and you sink. Most people learn it years from now."
Aiko's gaze flickered between him and the lake surface, disbelief still tightening her breath.
"And you're showing me this… now?"
"You asked to understand strength," he said plainly. "So we start with the foundation for moving where people can't follow."
Aiko bit her lip, a nervous energy surrounding her. "…I don't think I can do that yet."
Murakami finally glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
"That's fine."
Aiko blinked and looked up at him.
"…It is?"
"You're not doing it today."
She stared. "…Then why show me?"
Murakami turned his eyes back to the lake, the horizon just barely touched by morning light.
"Because you need to know what control is capable of. Most people don't aim for what they can't imagine."
Aiko let out a slow breath, her heartbeat easing even though her shock hadn't fully faded.
She took a small step closer to the edge, her toes nearly touching the water, as if checking whether it would behave differently for her.
It didn't.
Murakami walked back toward her, each step impossibly calm and stepped onto solid ground again without a drop on him.
He stopped about an arm's length away.
"For now," he said, "we start where everyone should start, but almost no one does."
Aiko straightened unconsciously.
Murakami stepped past her, pointing toward an open patch of earth near the tree.
"Sit," he instructed. "Cross-legged. Back straight."
Aiko hurried after him, dropping to the ground.
Murakami joined her with a practiced motion, settling opposite her.
"The basics of chakra aren't leaf-balancing or tree-climbing," he said quietly. "Those are tests. Not training."
Aiko looked at him, fully focused.
"The real first step," Murakami continued, "is feeling chakra clearly enough to shape it like a limb you were born with."
Murakami closed his eyes.
Aiko mirrored him.
"Good," he murmured. "Then we begin. Breathe in."
Aiko inhaled slowly, counting her breaths the way she'd seen Murakami do countless times but never understood.
The air was cool, brushing against her skin like a thin sheet of morning mist. Around them the clearing remained quiet, as if only the two of them existed here.
Murakami's voice came low and steady,
"First… feel your body."
Aiko's brows drew together faintly under closed eyelids.
"My body…?"
"Not chakra. Not yet." Murakami adjusted his posture slightly, his spine a perfect line. "You can't control something external if you've never learned to feel what's internal."
Aiko exhaled through her nose, focusing.
"Start with your breath," he continued. "Feel where it settles. In your chest. In your stomach. Under your ribs. Your breath tells you how prepared your body is."
Aiko did as he said, her breaths shaky at first, then gradually evening out.
Murakami nodded subtly.
"Good. Now, your muscles. Notice the tension in your shoulders. The tightness in your hands. The stiffness in your legs. Most people walk around like tightly wound springs without realizing it."
Aiko's shoulders dropped by just a fraction.
Murakami's tone stayed soft, but it carried a weight that couldn't be ignored. Like an elder instructing a child.
"Relaxation is a form of strength. If your body is too tense, your chakra flow gets tangled. If you're too loose, it leaks."
Aiko's breathing deepened, and after a few breaths the tension began to melt.
Murakami opened his eyes, watching her quietly.
He had noticed this about her years ago, Aiko carried stress in silence. She never complained. She never made a fuss. Always cheerful and chatty. But her shoulders always betrayed her.
She always wanted to belong and be liked.
Now, for the first time, she was actually letting go.
"…Better," he said and closed his eyes. It was to his advantage.
Aiko didn't respond, but a faint hint of pride flickered across her face.
Only then did Murakami speak again.
"Now, chakra."
Aiko straightened slightly, eyes still closed.
"Don't try to use it. Just… listen to it."
"Listen?" she whispered.
"Yes," Murakami said. "Chakra isn't loud, but it's always speaking. Most people ignore it and try to force it instead. That's why they struggle."
Aiko inhaled deeply.
"Let it move the way it wants," he said. "Don't pull it. Don't push it. Just feel it."
For a moment, the clearing went silent again.
Aiko's brow tightened.
"It's… faint," she murmured.
"It should be."
She exhaled, frustrated. "…It's so small."
Murakami scoffed quietly. "Chakra isn't about size. Even a flicker can become a flame if controlled properly."
"It moves when you move. It flows when you breathe. It's not something to summon, it's already there. You just… stop getting in its way."
Aiko's lips relaxed slowly. She focused again.
This time, Murakami sensed her body adjust in tiny shifts, the kind that came naturally when someone was finally listening inward.
After nearly a minute, Aiko's eyes opened just a sliver.
"I can… feel it," she whispered. "Like something warm. Very soft."
Murakami nodded. "That's your chakra pool. Good."
Aiko blinked at him. "…That's good?"
"For a first attempt?" He met her gaze without hesitation. "Better than most."
Aiko tried but failed to hide the small smile tugging at her lips as she sank back into focus.
Murakami pretended not to notice.
He tilted his head slightly. "Now, let it move."
Her smile vanished instantly.
"M-Move?"
"Slowly," he said. "Guide it. Think of it like water. If you try to grab water, it slips through your fingers. If you guide it gently, it follows."
Aiko inhaled sharply and closed her eyes again.
Murakami watched her shoulders tense, then relax. Her breath deepened. Her fingers twitched slightly.
"…It won't go," she muttered under her breath, frustration creeping in.
"You're trying too hard."
Aiko frowned. "How am I supposed to try less?"
"By not trying to 'force' it. Think…" He paused, choosing the comparison carefully. "Think like calling a child's attention, not dragging them by the arm."
Aiko went still at that.
Her breath softened… and then…
"I…I felt it."
Murakami gave a single, small nod. "Good."
The chakra had shifted…barely perceptible…but it had moved. A very small response, but a response nonetheless.
"That," Murakami said, "is the first step toward everything."
Aiko opened her eyes fully this time, looking at him with a mixture of awe and cautious pride.
Murakami ignored it and rose smoothly to his feet.
Aiko scrambled up as well, brushing off her clothes.
"What now?" she asked.
Now," Murakami said, glancing at the clearing, "we work on the external."