The wind howled through the hollowed streets of Rukashi City, carrying with it the stench of smoke and decay. Flames flickered from the toppled buildings, licking the stone paths where no one dared to tread. Kenzuko Yagumo stood in the middle of the wreckage, his fists trembling, blood from cuts along his arms mixing with the dirt beneath his boots. His chest heaved, but not with exhaustion—this was despair, the suffocating weight of loss pressing down like a mountain.
Kenzuko's parents had died before he could even remember them. Their names were whispered in fading memories, faces blurred into shadows. His earliest recollection was of Kage Nanayo, a stoic yet warm-hearted man who had taken him in when the world had seemed determined to spit him out. Kage had treated Kenzuko as if he were his own, guiding him with patience and unshakable faith despite Kenzuko's incompetence. No matter how badly Kenzuko performed—failing to master even the most basic Ryukuten techniques—Kage had always smiled.
"You'll get it someday," Kage had said, ruffling Kenzuko's messy hair. "Even if it takes your whole life, I'll be here until you do."
But now, Kage was gone. The beasts had come without warning, massive creatures born from the wild distortion of Ryukuten energy in the lands surrounding the city. Their bodies were twisted and inhuman: jaws lined with serrated teeth, claws like curved blades, eyes that burned with feral hunger. Kage had fought, of course—he always had—but there were too many, and the last image Kenzuko had was of Kage being dragged beneath a beast's towering bulk, his scream swallowed by the night.
Kenzuko sank to his knees, his palms digging into the ash-stained stones. "No… no… no… Kage…" His voice broke, rasping like a wind through dry bones. His whole body shook, not from cold, but from a despair so deep it clawed at the very marrow of his being. For the first time, the world felt utterly meaningless.
And then, amidst the ruins, a figure approached. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiated a presence that made Kenzuko's heart stutter. His hair was dark, styled with careless precision, and his eyes were sharp, calculating, yet there was something… alive behind them—a depth Kenzuko hadn't seen in anyone else. He moved with a fluid grace, as if every step was part of a strategy only he could perceive.
"You," the man said, his voice low, smooth, and commanding. "You're the boy who survived the Rukashi attacks. Kenzuko Yagumo."
Kenzuko's head snapped up, tears still streaking his dirt-caked face. "Who… who are you?" His voice was hoarse, raw.
"Rougen," the man replied. "Rezen S. The strongest. I've been observing your kind for some time." His eyes scanned Kenzuko from head to toe, then narrowed slightly. "I see… you have Riokanen as your Zen. That explains your survival."
Kenzuko blinked. "Riokanen…?" he whispered. Even among all the other Ryukuten users he had seen throughout his miserable life, no one had ever mentioned Riokanen. He had always been told he was worthless, that his Zen was too unstable, too raw to amount to anything.
Rougen tilted his head, studying him like one might examine a fragile artifact. "Yes. The ability to create energy and power. Rare. Dangerous if uncontrolled. But you… you have potential. And your despair—it could be honed, molded into something… lethal."
Kenzuko shook his head violently. "I… I'm nothing! I can't fight! I couldn't even save Kage!" His voice cracked, echoing in the empty streets. Rage and grief intertwined, creating a storm inside him that threatened to swallow him whole.
Rougen crouched slightly to bring his face closer to Kenzuko's. "No. You don't understand. That despair… that pain—it's not weakness. It's a crucible. And I can teach you to forge yourself into something stronger than anything you've ever imagined. But first… you must swear it."
Kenzuko's fists clenched until his knuckles bled. "Swear what?!" His voice was raw, desperate.
"Revenge," Rougen said simply. "Swear that you will not waste your life in tears. Swear that you will grow stronger, that you will not allow yourself to be helpless again. Swear that you will make them pay—every beast, every creature, every soul that took what was yours."
The world seemed to stop. Kenzuko's heart pounded so violently he thought it might burst from his chest. For years, he had been weak. For years, he had failed. And now, someone—someone with the strength to walk through chaos as if it were a mere evening stroll—was offering him a path.
He gritted his teeth, blood and ash dripping down his face. "I swear it," he said, voice trembling but firm. "I swear I will become strong enough to never be helpless again. I will make them all pay!"
Rougen nodded once, sharply. "Good. Then follow me. I will guide you. But know this—Ryukuten is not merely about raw strength. It is energy, yes, but it is also perception, technique, and the senses. Your body itself can become a weapon, your instincts sharpened to the point where they can rival even the highest Zen users. But if you fail… if you falter… you will die before you even take your first step into true power."
Kenzuko felt a strange warmth in his chest as he stared at Rougen. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't friendship. It was… opportunity. A chance to rise from the ashes of despair. And he took it, standing shakily and nodding. "I… I understand. I'll do whatever it takes."
Rougen extended his hand. "Then let us begin."
The journey was brutal.
For days, Kenzuko endured training that shattered his body and mind. Rougen pushed him to limits he hadn't thought possible, testing his control over Riokanen with exercises that tore at his very perception of reality. Kenzuko learned to manipulate his Zen, to focus it into streams of pure energy, to convert his pain and grief into explosive power.
"You must understand," Rougen said one evening as Kenzuko collapsed onto the rocky ground, sweat stinging his eyes, "Zen is not just power. It is balance. The world is energy. The beasts, the humans, even the air you breathe—it is all Ryukuten. If you do not learn to sense it, to harmonize with it, you will be devoured."
Kenzuko groaned, struggling to lift his head. "Balance… sense… I… I don't get it…"
Rougen's gaze sharpened. "Then let me show you." With a simple flick of his hand, Rougen released a pulse of energy that radiated through the air, bending the light and pressure around it. Kenzuko could feel it—a vibration in his bones, a song in his chest. Suddenly, everything seemed alive: the rocks beneath his hands, the leaves rustling above, the wind brushing against his skin. He realized with a shock that he could sense the flow of Ryukuten in everything.
His heart thundered. "I… I can feel it!"
"Good," Rougen said, a hint of a smile crossing his features. "Now, you must learn to act on it. Your senses can become techniques. Your sight, your hearing, your touch—even your instinct—can be weaponized. But it will not be easy. Every failure will leave scars, both visible and hidden."
Days turned into weeks. Kenzuko pushed his body past exhaustion, past pain, past despair. His control over Riokanen grew. He could condense energy into sharp blades, launch it as explosive projectiles, even form a protective aura around himself. But the most profound changes were internal: he could feel the subtle rhythms of his environment, anticipate movements, react before his mind had even registered danger.
And then came the first real test.
Rougen led Kenzuko to a desolate canyon, its cliffs jagged and weathered. Shadows moved at the edges of vision. "These are Rank 3 beasts," Rougen explained. "You will face them alone. Use your senses. Use your Zen. Kill or be killed. This is the first step toward true power."
Kenzuko's stomach churned with fear, but he clenched his fists and stepped forward. The beasts emerged from the shadows, hulking figures with jagged teeth and eyes that glowed like molten metal. Kenzuko's breath caught, but he forced himself to focus.
He raised his hands, summoning Riokanen into concentrated spheres of energy. Time seemed to slow. The creatures lunged, claws swiping, teeth snapping. Kenzuko moved, not with thought, but instinct. He could sense the flow of their Ryukuten, anticipate their strikes, and react before they even completed their motion.
Explosions of energy erupted as he struck, his control over Riokanen honed to a razor edge. One beast fell after another, their roars echoing through the canyon, until silence reigned. Kenzuko stood among the corpses, chest heaving, his hands trembling not from fatigue, but from exhilaration.
Rougen appeared beside him, his expression unreadable. "You survived," he said simply. "Not because of luck, but because you learned to become one with Ryukuten. But this is only the beginning. The world will not be kind to someone like you. There are those who seek power, and those who would see you destroyed before you reach it."
Kenzuko's eyes blazed with determination. "I don't care," he said firmly. "I'll grow stronger. I'll master Riokanen. And I'll make sure nothing like what happened to Kage… happens to anyone else."
Rougen nodded. "Good. Then let us continue."
The path ahead was uncertain. Kenzuko knew he would face beasts more powerful than anything he had encountered, humans who wielded Zen like gods, and the darkness within himself that threatened to consume him. But for the first time in his life, despair had been replaced with purpose. And purpose, Rougen had shown him, could become power.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the canyon in shadows and firelight, Kenzuko raised his hands, feeling the surge of Riokanen in his veins. He had a long road ahead, but for the first time, he was not alone. And he would not fail.
The journey of Kenzuko Yagumo had truly begun.