The training field was quiet, almost painfully so. The sun had begun its descent, brushing the edges of the mountains with soft gold, yet the air around Tobi felt heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Yanshi stood across from him, arms folded, eyes sharp as fire. Sweat traced thin lines down Tobi's face, his chest still wrapped from the previous battles, yet the effort to control both light and dark drained him in a way no injury could.
"Focus," Yanshi said, voice calm but edged with authority. "Your mind fights you as much as your body. The dark inside is alive. It tests you. It knows fear, hesitation…"
Tobi nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had trained countless times, yet today something felt different. The calm that usually followed a spar, the rhythm he relied on, it was slipping through his fingers.
A memory flickered unbidden—Ren's laugh, light and teasing, but gone now. He wasn't here. Not today. Not yesterday. And the absence was a weight pressing down harder than any sword or spell.
Tobi took a deep breath and gripped his sword tighter. Light along one edge, shadow along the other—together, still balanced, but heavier than before. His legs moved almost on instinct, stepping into the kata Yanshi had drilled him on endlessly.
And then it broke.
Not outside, not in motion—but inside. A fissure appeared in the calm he thought he had built. A fear he hadn't named.
The dark answered.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't violent.
It was there. A presence, ancient and patient, curling around the edges of his mind like smoke. A voice—or something like a voice—slipped into his awareness:
> "So this is how you carry it."
Tobi froze mid-step. The air shifted. Even the leaves hanging on the trees trembled as if acknowledging the pulse. His sword hummed faintly in response, the shadow side flickering like a heartbeat beneath his grip.
Yanshi's eyes narrowed. The first time he had seen Tobi hesitate like this, a twinge of unease passed through him. He had trained hundreds of students, faced dozens of unpredictable forces—but this was something different. The dark wasn't acting; it was watching.
Tobi felt the weight of it pressing down from every side, not violent, not cruel, but inevitable. It was truth made tangible. It whispered without words, testing his resolve, his identity, his control.
For a heartbeat, the Dark Dragon Sword manifested—not fully, not with form, but as a shape behind him. A shadow coalesced, elongated, like a serpent made of smoke and memory. It arched above him, eyes that didn't see, but knew.
And then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished.
Tobi collapsed to his knees. Sweat and blood mixed on his face, but he barely felt it. His chest tightened—not with pain, but with awareness. The dark had answered.
Yanshi approached silently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Enough."
Tobi's chest heaved, his eyes wide, reflecting both the golden sunset and the fading shadow of the sword. "I… I felt it. I—"
"You did," Yanshi interrupted softly. "It doesn't hate you. It doesn't want to destroy. It simply exists, as part of you. And right now… it tested you."
Tobi's fingers trembled around the sword. "I—I almost lost myself."
Yanshi shook his head. "No. You only glimpsed what's there. You didn't lose control. But remember this—the moment will come when hesitation could cost more than pain. When fear can endanger more than yourself."
From the corner of the training field, Hideo's presence felt like a shadow stretching across the world. Though distant, his eyes seemed to pierce Tobi's mind, silent judgment and expectation wrapped together.
Tobi exhaled slowly. His legs wobbled under him, but he forced himself to stand. "I… I understand," he whispered.
The sun dipped further, and shadows grew long. Tobi lifted the sword once more. Light and dark together, not clashing, but balanced. Not fully tamed—but present.
Yanshi stepped back, arms folded. "Good. Rest now. The next stage will demand more than you've ever given."
Tobi lowered his gaze, and a small, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips. Not triumph. Not relief.
Understanding.
The Dark Dragon Sword had spoken—and he had listened, if only for a moment.
As the wind stirred the leaves, Ishawa appeared briefly from the edge of the field, watching from his home. A faint smile touched his lips. "Interesting," he muttered. "Finally… something worth seeing."
Tobi's group—Iruka, Mizumi, and the others—stood at a distance, unaware of the depth of what had just occurred. Only Yanshi, and somewhere far across the horizon, Hideo, knew the truth.
For now, the dark slept. But its presence lingered like the last note of a song, unforgotten.
The sky deepened into twilight. Petals from the nearby sakura trees drifted lazily in the wind.
And for the first time, Tobi felt the weight of his destiny not as a burden, but as a path waiting to be walked.
He straightened his back. A quiet determination settled in him.
>"…I'll be ready."